


Starfall

by Slide (JustSlide)



Series: The Stygian Trilogy [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Epic, F/M, Harry Potter Next Generation, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 12:42:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 54
Words: 332,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6520180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustSlide/pseuds/Slide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world is changing. Governments collapse. Dark magic rises. An old enemy returns with new allies and motives as shrouded as ever. How far would you go for justice? How far would you fall for vengeance? <i>The sequel to Ignite and the second in the Stygian Trilogy.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

  
**Prologue**

She could hear the screaming, which was good; it meant she was in the right place.

Her footsteps rang out, echoing through the gloom as Eva Saida walked the long, dark corridor, the light of her wand casting erratic shadows on the cold grey stone of the walls. The air down here was musky and damp, and under the wailing of agony and her own approach she could hear the trickle of leaking water. 

The old castle had been abandoned for a long time. Seventy-eight years, to be precise, since the fall of those who had last made it great, even if such an ascendance had turned out to be nothing more than a futile clamouring for the grandeur of the past. The ruined corridors above - those they could access - had been lined with dusty, ruined statues of ancient warriors and wizards staring in judgement at her for her intrusion, for her blood. 

She hadn't cared. 

A figure lounged next to the door to her destination, which was heavy and metal and almost rusted away, useful now only for the magical enchantments around it they had resurrected. He was small but broad-shouldered, sallow-faced and with long, greasy dark hair, and leered at her as she approached. She ignored him, too, and reached for the door. 

'Nobody's supposed to interrupt -' 

But his hand was only on her wrist for a second before she'd twisted his grip so she had a hold of him instead. She slammed him against the cold stone wall face-first, arm twisted behind his back, and her voice dropped to a low growl. 'First: don't tell me what to do, or where to go. Second - and this is most important, Downing - don't touch me. Ever.' 

Elijah Downing gave a pained gasp. 'Orders from him.' 

'Which "him"? Because there's only one I give a damn about.' 

'The Colonel, of course!' Then Downing had planted his heel in her shin and she hissed in pain, letting him go. He turned his back to the wall, hand on his wand, dark eyes glinting at her. 'He said nobody was to interrupt them.' 

Saida watched Downing, watched him not pull his wand. She could best him, but wouldn't underestimate him. He was a vicious piece of work. 'Raskoph's upstairs. Thane asked me to come here. And you follow Thane's orders, still.' 

His lip curled. 'Don't you go questionin' my loyalties. I was workin' for Thane all this year while you were pissin' around who-knows-where.' 

'Oh, yes.' A sardonic tone tugged at her voice. 'Fighting in the forests of Hogwarts. Truly an epic war which tied you together as brothers. Tell me, Downing, was it three schoolchildren who captured you, or four?' 

'Five,' he sneered. 'An' yer precious Thane was bested only by one, weren't he?' 

She tutted. 'Careful, Downing. You never know who's listening.' 

'What, you'll run off an' tell him, like a good little bitch?' 

She considered beating him to a pulp and enjoyed the thought. But she had work to do. 'Just remember whose orders you follow. And they're not the old man's, and they're not even mine.' 

'I do what the Colonel says because Thane tells me to listen to him. Maybe you should consider not pissin' off our employers quite so bad, Saida. We're not all like you; some of us do this for the pay, not the _thrills_.' 

'Downing, I'm down in this grimy cellar with you. I assure you, I'm not here for the thrills,' Saida said, and turned for the door to the cell. This time he did not stop her. 

The screaming had cut out occasionally through their argument, though it remained regular, rhythmic like the ticking of a clock, the silence only ever lasting so long. A small smile curled her lips, not with pleasure at the screaming - she cared not one jot one way or another for that - but simply with admiration at the meticulousness. 

There were three people in the cell. Two of them were tied by magical bindings that glowed at their ankles and wrists and thus unable to move from the heavy metal chairs that had been bolted to the stone floor almost a century ago for exactly this purpose. One was a man, grey-haired and in old robes, face lined and worn. His spectacles had fallen on the floor and for the moment he was sagged forward, head bowed, blood encrusted across his chin. It was he who had been doing the screaming. 

The other was a woman - a girl, really. She was about Saida's age, which meant conventional wisdom would call her a girl, though Saida had stopped considering herself a child by age fourteen and the past five years had done nothing to walk her maturity back. 

But this woman's eyes were younger, far younger, even if they were piling on the years with every moment she watched the old man's plight. She was dark-haired and pretty and tears wiped rivers of clear skin across her grimy face. 

It was to the third figure that Saida's attention went, however. Even in the gloomy passages underground, Prometheus Thane looked at home and in control. Colonel Raskoph had directed them here and was the one claiming the authority over them and the castle, but when they had crossed the threshold into the remains of ancient halls of noble power, it had been Thane who looked like the prodigal son come home to return them to greatness. And the entire ruin had looked like it was half-restored already just by his arrival. 

Even here, with his sleeves rolled up with blood across his hands, she thought he looked lordly. Tall and pale, blond hair swept back, his were handsome features finely-chiselled, with strong cheekbones and a straight nose. Pale blue eyes fixed on a person and made promises or threats that sank to your heart and you couldn't help but believe. 

Raskoph had been delighted with him on sight. But then, Raskoph was crazy. Saida was not but she, too, found him entrancing. 

Thane looked at her only briefly, as if her arrival was inconsequential, before his gaze turned to the old man. 'This is your last chance, Professor,' he said, voice cold. 'Where is it?' 

The old man spat out a mouthful of blood, and as Saida looked to the stone floor she could see Thane had been taking his teeth. That would be, she mused, the cause of the screaming. But when he lifted his head, there was only determination glinting in his eyes. 'Go to hell.' 

'Some day,' said Thane, as if he'd just been invited to a lovely picnic but had a terribly troublesome prior commitment. 'But not today.' 

Then he looked between Saida and the girl in the other chair. Saida didn't hesitate before she pulled out her wand and pointed it at the back of the girl's head. ' _Avada Kedavra_.' 

' _No_ -!' But the old man's strangled scream cut itself off at the flash of green light, and the girl slumped without a sound. 'She was my assistant!' he roared, German accent thicker in his distress. 'She knew nothing!' 

'Which is why she was the one punished for your misdemeanour.' Thane walked over to the old man and spoke as if he were a misbehaving schoolboy. He hunkered down next to the chair so they were more of a height and continued talking in the same melodious, calm voice. 'You have no wife, not any more. My condolences. But you have... a son. Grandchildren. They're not here, for certain, but we can find them and we _will_ find them. If more punishments must be given. Which they must be, if you remain silent.' 

There was no response but the Professor's weeping as he slumped on his chair, head bowed, shoulders shaking with racking, heaving sobs of pain, anguish, and helplessness. 

'I will leave you to reflect on this for a little,' said Thane, and gestured to Saida for them to both head for the door. 

Downing opened and swung it shut behind them, and went to fall into step as they carried on down the corridor, but Thane lifted a hand. 'No, watch him,' he said. 'And listen for if he starts to talk to himself again.' 

Downing scowled but remained at his post, and so Saida followed Thane down the long, grimy tunnel that would soon lead to the stairs up into the belly of the castle ruins. Thane did not speak until they were long past anyone's earshot. 'They found nothing?' 

'They found many things. Wondrous things. But not the Chalice,' said Saida with a sigh. 'Raskoph could shatter the world with half of what his brethren brought here, but he wants only one cup.' 

'This "cup" could be the key to everything,' said Thane. 'Without the Resurrection Stone...' He stopped at the foot of the steps and peered up into the gloomy sunlight that broke through grey skies above and past grey ruins further down and so barely reached this underground passageway. 

Saida said nothing. She had heard how furious the Council of Thorns had been with Prometheus Thane for losing the Resurrection Stone at Hogwarts. She, herself, had been bewildered at how this unbeatable man had been outwitted by schoolchildren, but Thane had been so blunt and matter-of-fact about the issue that she suspected there was more than he was telling them. 

But she didn't press, and she didn't doubt. He would have a reason. He always did. 

'No,' said Thane at last, as if concluding an internal debate with himself. 'The Chalice must be found if the Council's plans are to continue.' 

' _Must_ we work with Raskoph, if the Chalice isn't here?' 

'He's the one the Council gave this task -' 

'Because they thought the Chalice was in the hands of his old compatriots. It would seem it's not, so that makes him nothing more than a crazy old relic of a crazy old time.' 

Thane gave a smile, one of those small ones which said he was genuinely amused. 'My dear Eva,' he sighed, 'do you not approve of our employers?' 

'I _nothing_ the Council. But they're the ones paying me. Raskoph is not.' 

'Raskoph is one of them.' 

'One of many.' 

His smile remained, and she would have sworn it softened when he stepped over, lifting a hand to her chin. He was the only person who didn't make her flinch when they touched her, and so when his fingertip brushed the scar that puckered at the left side of her jawline, she let him tilt her face up to him. 

'Always so angry, Eva,' he mused. 'But we'll have to be patient. I know this is nothing more than a relic hunt. I know the Council of Thorns has other plans in the world and other plans even for Phlegethon. This might be a wild goose chase. But it's the job they've assigned to us, and after my failure at Hogwarts I am in no position to negotiate with them.' 

'Even if one of them ordered you to lose the Resurrection Stone?' She hadn't know, not for sure, that her suspicion was accurate until that moment. His face, as ever, was perfectly poised, but she felt a tension in his touch, the tell of his obfuscation she wouldn't have had if his fingertips weren't still at her chin. 

Which was why she'd waited before asking so bluntly. 

'I was unlucky at Hogwarts,' said Thane with no other sign of hesitation. 'It does happen to us all. Which is why they make us chase ghost stories with a loon of an age that's bygone even by the Council's standards. But be patient, Eva. If we find the Chalice, we will be _more_ than restored in their eyes. We will be lauded. Elevated.' 

'You mean you will,' said Saida as he dropped his hand, not at all begrudging. That was just how this worked. 

'The Professor will talk,' Thane said, as if she hadn't spoken. 'He'll break now. I give him an hour before Downing comes along. I wish such extreme methods weren't needed, but he'll talk, and he'll tell us where to go. And then we can be out of this hateful place.' 

'Even if we have to keep Raskoph, I look forward to it.' 

'Let me handle the Colonel. He is, after all, easily led. All we have to do is let him think he has the power and he is as satisfied as a child with cake. Now.' Thane straightened. 'Make ready our equipment for departure. I'm sure by the time you're done, the Professor will have us our next heading.' 

Saida inclined her head respectfully and without another word turned to pad up the steps. She was halfway before Thane called out again, voice casual, like he was saying nothing of importance. 

'They will restore and elevate me if we find the Chalice, yes. But you know I do not forget competence. You know I do not forget loyalty. And you know I could never forget _you_ , Eva.' 

She stopped but didn't turn, and for a moment she could close her eyes and imagine he was saying that to her as anything other than a trusted subordinate. Even if he had saved her, made her, elevated her from the harsh streets of Algiers and shown her the wondrous world of magic all those years ago, she knew in his eyes she was barely above the likes of Downing. 

But she _was_ above them in his regard, and that was enough. Or, she mused as she simply nodded and carried on up the stairs, it would have to be.


	2. Dream On

Scorpius Malfoy suspected heroes were either dead or liars, or perhaps both: liars who committed feats of fiction until a truth too big to be beguiled came along and their story met a mundane, bloody end. Then they rested in the ground alongside men more honest, men more courageous, men who had made more of a difference but were, in the end, no less dead. 

He suspected this because the country called him a hero when he still lived, he suspected this because he had lied and lied again about his deeds, however necessarily, and he suspected this because he had personally known exactly one hero in his life, and Methuselah Jones was dead. 

The fact that he lived under the roof of Harry Potter did not dispel him of these suspicions. It was not that he thought Harry Potter a liar, and Harry Potter was most certainly not dead, but his heroics had taken place decades earlier. The world, they said, was changing. And this had never been clearer to him than on a winter’s day in the depths of a forest shrouded in shadow when a figure wreathed in the wings of a white eagle plunged into darkness. And won. And died. 

_‘Not foolishness. Simply sensible. After all. I’m the best at this.’_

Scorpius woke with a start, like he always did when he dreamed that nightmare, and smothered the echo of a scream on his lips calling a dead man back. For a long moment there was nothing but the thudding of his heart in his chest, the gasping of breath tearing from his throat, and the shadow of a silhouette against silver flames when he closed his eyes. 

So he stared at the ceiling and tried to stay quiet so he didn't wake Albus. 

The Potters had offered to clear out Harry's study, or perhaps James' old bedroom, so Scorpius could have a room of his own instead of bunking with Albus. It was not only humility that had him refusing. A room to himself was not a luxury; it was his prison of a bedroom at Malfoy Manor, or the guest room at Hogwarts he'd slept in for a five-month crisis. Home was a four-poster bed with emerald drapes and his best friend near enough to talk with until late into the night about everything and nothing. Being here was not quite right, but the sound of Albus' gently rumbling snore filling the room made it close enough. 

With a pang of guilt, Scorpius slid out of his camp bed and reached for his jeans. He didn't need to wear Muggle clothing to antagonise his father any more - he did that, now, just by existing - but they were comfortable, hard-wearing, and close to hand. He pulled them on, as well as a t-shirt and his knitted green jumper and slid out the door barefoot, pausing only once in the corridor to make sure Albus' sleep was not disturbed. 

It wasn't that he couldn't talk to Albus about what was on his mind. It was just that there was nothing new to _say_. 

He stayed light-footed down the corridor as he passed Lily's bedroom, trotted down the stairs and avoided the third step from the bottom, which creaked, then grabbed his boots by the front door and slunk out the back. April was dying and turning to May but it was still night, and Scorpius still suppressed a shiver as he made sure he was in the clear, pulled out his wand, and turned on the spot to disapparate from Godric's Hollow. 

He'd got his licence when Albus did, after his friend's seventeenth, and the liberty was invigorating. The Potters were happy to remain hands-off while he stayed with them, granting him his freedom and his privacy, but for weeks he had been dependent on Floo, which was the least-discreet method of coming and going he knew of. 

And it had made these night-time escapades impossible. 

He appeared in a different back garden and looked around to make sure he'd not been spotted. It was still ingrained from his training to make sure an apparition was Magically Secure and had not won attention from Muggles, though this time his concern was more for a sharp-eyed, angry father. But this back garden - huge and sprawling behind the old converted rectory that housed this cadet branch of the Weasley family - was bathed in the shadows of its tall trees and thick bushes, and he was safe. 

Not approaching the back door, with a healthy respect for the wards that protected this place and did not recognise him the way the ones at the Potter house did, Scorpius instead made for the gravel path winding through the garden to select a pebble and set his gaze on an upper floor rear window. 

His first pebble missed. So did the second one. The third, however, _thunked_ against the glass. He grinned, and waited. 

And waited. 

Then shuffled around for another pebble. This time he hit on the second try, and didn't stop throwing pebbles until there was a twitch of a curtain, at which point he was struck by the terrible fear that he'd got the wrong window, even though he knew he hadn't. But there was nothing for it other than to wave cheerfully and wait as the curtain fell back into place. And to silently pray he'd correctly woken Rose as intended, and not something awful like got her parents' room instead. 

When the back door opened he felt some of the tension flee his spine as he saw her, and she finished tugging on her shoes to crunch across the gravel to join him, light as she could be. 

'Scorpius, what're you _doing_ here?' Despite the admonishment in her words her eyes were dancing and she did a poor job of suppressing the smile. 

'This,' he said with a decisive air, grabbing her by the wrist when she reached him and pulling her into a kiss. One arm slid around her waist as the other hand buried itself in her red hair still wild from sleep, her hands grabbed greedy fistfuls of his jumper and he realised they had done this far, far too little. Privacy was no easy thing in either of their busy, family homes, and while they could steal an afternoon together it was harder now than it even would have been at Hogwarts in normalcy to find somewhere the rest of the world could fade away. At Hogwarts in crisis there had been no parents looking over shoulders, no teachers who accounted for their whereabouts, no fellow students in classes or dorms to be in the way. 

Then they'd had all the opportunity, but no time. Now they had time, but scant opportunity. 

When she broke the kiss she stayed close, burrowed up against his chest, her eyelashes drooping, sleepy, satisfied. She brushed her nose against his. 'You didn't come here just for that.' 

'I might have done,' said Scorpius, and in that moment couldn't think of a better reason to apparate somewhere in the middle of the night. 

'Except you're going to see me in a few hours anyway?' 

'Yeah, but Al will be there. He gets super awkward if I try to seduce you in front of him.' 

A smile played across her lips. 'Oh, so that's what you're doing now?' 

'If I were really seducing you, love,' Scorpius said, his own smirk intact, 'you wouldn't need to ask.' 

Her brown eyes, usually so keen and assessing, softened. Because she could analyse facts and figures and solve problems, and somehow she'd managed to turn that same analysis on him and yet _hadn’t turned away_. Her fingers ran down his shoulder to take a firmer, but less furtive hold of his forearm. 'What's wrong?' 

He would be lying to say he never lied to her. Because he would, and he had, and he could, and sometimes he even got away with it, because Scorpius Malfoy was experienced at his masks and his obfuscations. He could lie to Albus Potter, but then he felt guilty about it afterwards. 

He could lie to Rose Weasley, and feel even guiltier about it afterwards, but the maddening thing was that, more and more, he didn't _want_ to lie to her. 

And tonight he'd sought her out without really thinking about it. 

'Nothing new,' he said, and winced when he realised it sounded like an evasion. If nothing else it was a shoddy thing to do, to come out here and wake her in the middle of the night and then brush it off. 'I just couldn't sleep.' 

Her fingertips to brushed along his temples. 'Jones?' 

He grimaced. 'Always Jones.' 

Then she'd taken his hand and was leading him further from the house, deeper into the garden cast in blackened silver by the dark filter of night that the shine of the moon and stars pierced. The garden was huge, but Rose knew it well, had grown up here, had lived a normal childhood of playing in and amongst the trees and bushes with her parents, her brother, her cousins. 

He had grown up with flat lawns he shouldn't run on, exquisitely trimmed hedges he shouldn't hide in, water features he shouldn't climb, and white peacocks he was never supposed to chase. For the thousandth time he envied her childhood and envied her family. 

It was to an old swing-seat that she led him, nestled around the back of a large rhododendron bush that curled away from the house before the garden ended and the long slope down to the orchard beyond began. She didn't stumble in the dark or need to check her bearings and so he trusted her to guide him through the gloom. The wooden seat creaked as they sat on it, but she crawled under his arm and nestled against him in the chilly night air and so he had no desire to act on his distrust of the contraption's stability. 

'You can't blame yourself, you know,' Rose murmured. 

'What says I do?' 

'Me. I know you.' She looked up at him, that assessing glint back in her eye. 'You thought you should have gone instead of him.' 

'It would have been silly.' _I'm the best at this_. 'He was the only one who could have done it. If he hadn't, the ritual would have overloaded and we'd all be dead. Maybe everyone in Hogwarts, too.' 

'So why _do_ you still blame yourself?' 

Scorpius looked away, watching the shadows of the trees in the orchard, like silhouetted soldiers lining up to judge him. 'Because he was a guy smart enough to do that. To save everyone. A guy smart enough to break Hogwarts' wards. Who can say what he'd have gone on to do? While - I mean, what am I?' 

She pulled away from under his arm and for a moment the chill at her absence was freezing - not for the night air but for the thought, that thought which perpetually lingered in his mind, that she'd had enough, that she would go. But then she had moved to sit on his lap and he couldn't see the cider apple trees any more, just her, the curls of her red hair tickling his cheeks as she tilted his face up to be level with hers. 

'You know that's not a line of thinking to go down. Methuselah Jones was smart and he was brave - and he was also an insufferable, thoughtless prat at times. He was our friend. And I miss him too.' Her fingertips played with the hair at the nape of his neck, and warmth began to spill through him. 'But when I thought it was you who'd gone into the centre, I...' 

Her voice trailed off, the dauntless Rose Weasley for once at a loss for words, and so he decided to make it simpler by leaning up to kiss her again. She arched against him as he pulled her closer and now, when he closed his eyes, there was no silhouette wreathed in silver flames - only her. Just her, and no world beyond. 

When she pulled back she pressed her forehead against his and met his gaze fiercely. 'So, in summary, don't you dare wish you were dead instead.' 

'...if that's the summary of your argument, I think I want to go through some of the major debate points another time, just to be clear -' She kissed him, but only briefly this time, and he sobered as they broke the embrace, letting out a shaky exhale. 'I know it's stupid. But I don't always know that in the middle of the night. I just needed... this.' He met her gaze. 'Thanks.' 

Rose's smile was small but firm. 'Every time.' Her fingertips toyed with the neckline of his jumper. 'Have you got your jobs sorted for tomorrow?' 

'Oh, Merlin, I come here for midnight angst and snogging and instead get nagged on if I did my errands -' 

Her eyes lit up indignantly. 'I consider it "emotional support" and if you haven't paid your final deposit on our portkey package then we lose the lot for all _four_ of us...' 

'It's paid!' 

'...and I know you can afford it, you've just been _lazy_ , swanning around tea shops with Albus all day.' 

Scorpius' eyes narrowed. 'We also go to Quidditch shops and drink pints in the Leaky Cauldron, but I want to _thank_ you for picking the visits to the _tea shops_ as the part to mention.' 

'I swear last time you talked more about the new lemon slice when you got back than you did about the Quidditch scores.' 

'They were _really good_ lemon slices and you're perfectly welcome to come along and try them next time -' 

'No, no.' Rose tilted her nose skyward. 'I wouldn't want to interrupt your manly conversations over tea and cake.' 

His gaze only darkened. 'Have _you_ done _your_ jobs?' 

'Of course I have; I have a full inventory of our packing, of the tents and food supplies and a decent medical kit and about twelve different language phrase-books...' 

'Oh, Merlin, forget I asked -' 

'You need this holiday. _We_ need this holiday.' Rose's gaze grew more sincere as she looked down at him, voice dropping. 'We'll go see exciting places and get away from the dreary headlines, and friends still getting over Phlegethon, and fussing parents...' Her fingertips continued to play with the collar of his jumper. '...and sometimes get a bit away from Albus and Hestia...' 

His hands slid to her waist and he turned, toppling her off his lap and onto her back on the seat. Before she could rise he'd moved, his lips finding hers again, and then they were a tumble of limbs and breathlessness on the secluded swing-seat behind the bush far, far away from any of the interferences she'd just mentioned. 

Scorpius' fingertips brushed along her neck and he could feel her pulse pounding in her throat under his touch, a beat to match the thudding in his own heart. He trailed his thumb up to her chin, a coaxing touch to deepen the kiss, and her lips parted under his, eager, encouraging. Her fingers were tangled in his hair, her body rising against his as his other hand slid up from her waist. His fingertips toyed with the hem of the bottom of the t-shirt she'd thrown on before coming out, then slipped under, finding warm, bare skin underneath. 

The kiss broke as her breath caught at his touch and he let it, opening his eyes to meet her gaze. 'I said you'd not need to ask if I was seducing you,' Scorpius said, voice like it had been dragged all the way down the gravel path from the house, 'but for the record, this is it.' He paused, and swallowed, and fought back every instinct that told him to just kiss her again. 'Are you okay?' 

Her eyes were dark, dark from the shadows of the rhododendron bush, the starlit night sky, and the thrill of him, but the new breath she drew was shaky. 'I'm fine. Better than fine. But it's a bit late.' 

'Technically, it's a bit early.' But his voice was lighter now, more joking, and when he smiled she smiled with him. He kissed her again, though this time the brush of his lips was softer, more lingering, and sat up. 'But I guess you're right. I'll see you in a few hours.' 

'I'd rather be awake for it. And not _horribly distracted_.' Her smile was a flash of light in the shadows, impish and pleased. 

'I'm always distracting. But I'll let you get back to bed. Alone.' He sank back on the swing-seat and was unable to fight a smirk. 

She got to her feet, reluctance in her eyes, and leaned down to him one last time. But her fingertips were at his chin as he straightened to meet what he thought was a goodnight kiss and she stopped him there, his lips locked a tantalising half-inch from hers. 'You keep teasing me, Scorpius Malfoy, and one day I might just take you up on it. And then you'll be in trouble.' Rose leaned in, but her lips were only the lightest of brushes against his, a promise and a taunt all in one, like the whisper of things to come. He closed his eyes, saw only her instead of the shadows of death, and when he opened them again he was on his own with the cider trees of the orchard stretching out before him. 

Now they were less like a judging line, and more like co-conspirators in the dark. But he could see the eastern horizon from here, see the glow tugging the star-studded black velvet down from the sky with the reaching fingertips of the sun's first rays, and he reached for his wand. He'd rather not be caught out here by Rose's father. 

Within moments he was back in the garden at the Potter house in Godric's Hollow, and dawn was definitely coming. He'd let his girlfriend distract him for frankly far too long, but Scorpius could only smirk at this, rather than reproach himself for it, as he padded to the back door to come into the kitchen. 

And found himself face-to-face with the casual, tea-sipping form of Harry Potter, leaning against his kitchen counter and doing nothing more than looking at him and raising his eyebrows. 

Scorpius stopped. 'Um.' 

'I know my best stories always started with the word, "um,"' said Harry. 'Morning.' 

' _Hi_.' Scorpius pursed his lips. '...any water left in the kettle?' 

'Oh, help yourself. By all means.' 

He did so, because making tea meant he didn't have to look at Harry Potter's knowing gaze, and tried to not feel guilty. He'd not been doing anything wrong. It wasn't as if Rose's parents disapproved of him or the relationship, or rather, Ron Weasley regarded him with the exact level of disapproval a father was entitled to hold for a seventeen year-old boy pursuing his daughter. He'd been over for dinner before and been utterly charming (he was sure), and Rose was an adult and there was hardly anything wrong with her sneaking out to her own back garden. 

As for his end, the Potters had been brilliant enough to let him stay with them after he'd walked out on his father. They had fallen into the comfortable state of how the Potters wouldn't tell him what to do so long as he didn't behave in a way which demanded they do so. But he was a little bit too used to authority figures telling him he was wrong, so he flinched when Harry continued speaking. 'You were careful?' 

'I wasn't -' Scorpius stopped himself and shovelled sugar into his mug. 'I just went to the Rectory.' 

'I figured. Don't get me wrong, if I didn't think it was safe _there_ I most certainly wouldn't let Albus be going on this globe-trotting excursion.' Harry shrugged. 'I'm a father. It's my right to fuss.' 

Scorpius winced. 'You won't tell Mr Weasley?' 

'Why?' Harry's eyebrows went up. 'Is there something he needs telling?' 

'No! No -' 

'Then I don't see why I should get chatty. Ron can be very irrational sometimes. Gets these rage blackouts, it's a terrible thing.' He was clearly smothering a smile. 

Scorpius couldn't quite return it. 'I just couldn't sleep. That was all.' 

Harry nodded, gaze sobering. 'Anything you want to talk about?' 

'It's fine,' he said automatically, then hesitated, stalling for time by taking a sip of tea that was really too hot, still. 'I don't - you've lost friends.' 

Harry's gaze flickered. 'I have. And it does stay with you,' he said, voice careful. 'It's okay to feel bad. It's okay to feel absolutely terrible. But it's also okay to laugh, to smile, to have a good time, to not think about them. That doesn't mean you're forgetting them.' 

Scorpius peered into his tea. 'I think I swing wildly between the two.' 

'I don't know if there's such a thing as "normal" for this. But that seems pretty normal.' Harry nodded. 'You're right to go to your friends, to people who care about you. That helps.' 

'Are you okay?' Scorpius hesitated as he heard how presumptuous he sounded. 'I mean, you're up early.' 

Harry gave a small smile. 'I'm fine. I slept lightly and then the paper coming in woke me up.' The smile flickered. 'Then I read it.' He pushed the folded copy of the _Daily Prophet_ across the kitchen table. 

Scorpius unfolded it with a flick of the wrist. '" _Brazillian_ _Government Falls_."' He scowled and read on. 'Acosta and his people take over. Dark wizards abound in the new administration. And Acosta's not even hiding his ties to the Council of Thorns.' 

'So now they're not just terrorists. They've seized a country.' Harry's lips were set in a very thin line. 'Are you sure going abroad's still a good idea?' 

'We weren't going anywhere near South America anyway,' said Scorpius. 'And I'm not sure sitting around _here's_ much safer.' 

'No,' sighed Harry, who had commented for weeks on the rise of dark magic violence. 'I suppose not.' 

'The Portkey Passes get us anywhere we need to go. We'll stay in touch, and keep track of the news, and go nowhere troublesome. Venice first, and then wherever we fancy.' For centuries the city had dominated magical commerce across Europe, which had made it a major transport hub for international portkeys. Even today, with its role diminished and Venice itself absorbed into Italy, it was still the best place to start any trip, because it had so many powerful portkeys that from there a wizard could go far. 

'I would feel more reassured if we knew what the Council wants. This lack of any agenda other than power, this propensity for using dark magic but championing whatever cause will bring them followers, it unnerves me,' Harry confessed. 'They prey most of all on bigotry because that will never go away. But in some places they've pursued more liberal agendas simply because there was a populace there who would support such causes. I can handle that. But it might be hard for you four to see trouble coming if we can't predict what they'll do next.' 

Scorpius lifted a hand. 'First, we'll stick to places without great upheaval, which is still most of the world. Second, um.' He hesitated. 'Shouldn't you have this conversation with Albus?' 

Harry sighed. 'I'm sorry. You're right, and it's not fair of me to put this on you, especially not when we've supported this for weeks and you're about to go.' 

'Two days,' said Scorpius cheerfully. 

'Then you should go. And have fun.' 

'That's the plan.' Scorpius drained his mug and suppressed a yawn. 

'Go get some sleep,' said Harry, watching him. 

'It's past six -' 

'And Rose won't be here until nine, so have a couple of hours sleep rather than snoozing through the meeting. Or I can imagine that'll make her irritable.' Harry smirked, but Scorpius couldn't argue with his logic. His poor night of sleep was catching up with him, and so he slouched to the stairs and managed to make it back into his camp-bed without waking Albus, who would hopefully have no idea he'd even slunk out. 

And drifted back to sleep with more pleasant thoughts in his mind than before. 

_'You keep teasing me, Scorpius Malfoy, and one day I might just take you up on it...'_

When he woke, sunlight was streaming through the open curtains, Albus' bed was empty, the clock on the bedside table said it was quarter past nine, and he could smell bacon. Only one of these facts made him want to emerge from his cocoon of warmth. 

He needed a shower but he definitely wanted bacon, so compromised with a dressing gown and some old fuzzy slippers of James' he had stolen on account of their being warm and also hilarious. Thus it was in fashionable attire that he made his way down the stairs, and frowned when he found the only people in the house to be Albus and Rose. 

They were in the kitchen, Rose sat with a mug of tea and her hair tied back and looking as if she'd slept the sleep of the virtuous, while Albus was seeing about cooking breakfast. He was scrambling eggs at that moment, and grinned up at the doorway when he spotted Scorpius before looking to Rose. 

'I told you the smell would wake him. Morning, sleepyhead. Can you believe he slept through my alarm?' 

Rose lifted her eyes from her mug and bit her lower lip. 'Appalling.' 

Once he was sure Albus had his back to them and his attention on the food, Scorpius narrowed his eyes at her. She assumed an innocent expression. 'Where is everyone?' he asked Albus, and went to pour himself some tea. 

'Dad's at work,' said Al as he rattled around the kitchen, more his mother's child when it came to cooking than any of his siblings. 'Mum's taken Lily to Saint Mungo's for one of the recovery checkups, but it's just a formality by now.' 

'Hugo had his last week, they discharged him fully,' said Rose. 'All but the really unlucky are recovered from Phlegethon now.' 

_And the_ really _unlucky are dead,_ Scorpius thought, but the moment he'd remembered Tim, Rose was reaching to brush the back of his knuckles with her fingertips. The touch was gentle, not pressuring him, but it dispelled some of the grief, and so he gave her a small, grateful smile. He hadn't realised she'd even notice to comfort. 

'Did you hear about Brazil?' he said instead. 

Rose scowled. 'Yes. Which has brought up a bit of a spanner in the works on our trip.' 

'I don't see why,' said Albus. 'Portkeys are paid for, we've packed everything, and we're not going near Brazil, or to South America at all -' 

'Hestia's dropped out. I had a letter this morning.' 

Albus scowled but didn't yell, because Albus almost never yelled. Scorpius, however, did. ' _What_? She bloody - we're going in two days!' 

'It's not her choice,' said Rose, drawing her hand back. 'Her parents read about Brazil and got cold feet about her leaving the country, leaving them. They were always a bit unsure about it all but this was the final straw.' 

Albus grimaced but started dishing up breakfast anyway. It would take worse news than the possible cancellation of their trip weeks in the making to ruin his appetite. Perhaps nothing short of another outbreak of Phlegethon could do so. 'Has _she_ paid her share of the Portkey Pass?' 

Rose winced. 'No. And her parents don't want to, now.' 

Scorpius' eyes widened. 'You're kidding me. They cancel the trip on her and now they put all of _us_ going in jeopardy because they're too fussy -' 

'It's not _fussy_ , Scorpius, it's pretty normal for parents to be worried considering Phlegethon and everything -' 

'But this means _we_ have to meet the costs!' snapped Scorpius. 

Albus and Rose exchanged looks, and Albus exhaled slowly. 'I can't afford to up my share,' he said at length. 

Scorpius sobered at this, then waved a dismissive hand. 'I'll cover it.' 

'You will not!' said Rose indignantly. 'That's not fair.' 

'She's right,' said Albus. 'We do this evenly, Scorp, you don't need to fork out more to cover us. We said we'd be doing this our way, with pocket money and birthday money.' 

'To be specific,' said Scorpius, reaching for the teapot to top up his mug, ' _you_ said you'd do it that way. _I_ still have all of my money.' He'd been lucky with his timing in stepping out from his father's house and influence and wealth. Coming of age had brought with it money held in trust for him throughout his childhood, accounts in his name which his parents and grandparents had poured wealth into, and so now, without Draco giving him a knut, he was hardly in danger of poverty. 

Albus stiffened, however. 'I'd rather not do it that way.' 

'Then we lose the entire group Portkey Pass and can go absolutely nowhere,' Scorpius pointed out. 

' _Or_ ,' said Rose in that tone of voice which made it clear she wanted the bickering to stop, 'we find a new fourth person to jump in and pay Hestia's share.' 

Scorpius' brow furrowed. 'Who?' 

Albus winced. 'Selena?' 

'I doubt she'll want to,' said Rose. 'She's spending all her time with Travers and Abena these days, we've barely spoken in the last two months.' 

Scorpius raised an eyebrow. 'I reckon she might,' he said. 'It'd do her some good to get away for a bit, and she'll have the cash, and it's not like her mother's overbearing or will stop her or anything. I'll stop by and talk to her today?' 

The other two looked dubious, but Rose shrugged. 'You can try. It'd be nice if she did,' she said, then hesitated. 'There is one more person who springs to mind...' 

He narrowed his eyes, not because he knew what she was thinking but because she was so obviously apprehensive. 'Who?' 

Rose winced. 'Matt.' 

Scorpius quirked an eyebrow. 'Doyle?' 

'Yes.' She coloured. 'He'll have the spare money, his parents are pretty laid-back, you two both get on with him!' 

'I do,' said Albus, and sipped his tea diplomatically. 

But Rose was looking more at Scorpius, gaze rather anxious, and seemed surprised when he smiled and shrugged. 'Sure, Doyle. That would be fine by me. But I really reckon I can get Selena on board.' 

Silence met his words, silence broken only by Albus digging into the hearty breakfast he'd cooked, and Rose blinked as Scorpius just reached for more tea. 'Oh,' she said. 'Okay. Well, talk to Selena, and if that gets nowhere, then I'll talk to Matt?' 

'Sure,' said Scorpius, and then promptly tuned out for most of the rest of their planning session. The meeting was more for Rose's benefit, so she could be sure she'd done every single task that had needed doing before they left, big and small, and for Albus to be better than him at pretending they cared. 

It wasn't that it wasn't important. But the prospect of going to Venice, Egypt, India, and beyond, all made little things like camping supplies and guide books sound rather mundane. So he just ate his breakfast and sipped his tea and watched Rose go through officious points and tried to not be distracted by that stray lock of red hair that kept springing from behind his ear. He always wanted to reach for it, tuck it away or toy with it, and thinking of _that_ made him think of that morning... 

So overall he looked very fixated on what Rose had to say after all and so when she left an hour later, telling him to let them both know the moment he'd spoken with Selena, he was feeling like he'd earned a serious number of good boyfriend points. 

Albus, however, just rolled his eyes once they heard the front door close behind Rose. 'You didn't pay one jot of attention to that, did you.' 

'Nope,' said Scorpius, mopping up baked bean sauce with the latest round of toast. 

Albus snorted into his tea. 'Still, I'm impressed.' 

'At what? I've been pretending to listen to women for _years_.' 

'I mean at you being not bothered about Matthias. It's decent of you.' 

'Oh, _that_.' Scorpius scowled, but he waved a hand dismissively. 'No, you're having a laugh if you think I want to go on a month-long trip across the world with Rose's ex-boyfriend. The only way it would be worse would be if it were Hector.' 

Albus looked startled. 'If it's a problem, you should have said something.' 

'What, and have her accuse me of getting jealous?' Scorpius munched on toast. 'It's fine. Selena's going to come with us, she'll be a piece of cake to lure along, she'd _love_ Venice. So Doyle won't be an issue and by playing along, I get to look all mature.' 

'Certainly the key word is, "look,"' Albus agreed, brow furrowing. 'You shouldn't worry about Doyle, you know.' 

'I don't. Because he and Rose broke up a year ago, and because I have _far_ better hair than him, and because he's not coming with us so it's not even an issue.' Scorpius topped up his mug of tea again. 'We're going to go on holiday, we're going to see awesome things in awesome places, we're going to get _far_ away from this Council of Thorns bollocks, and absolutely no crises are going to reach us at all.' 

Upon reflection, Scorpius should have realised that this was a deeply, deeply stupid prediction to make. 


	3. Many Moons

Scorpius felt like a stalker. This was probably because he was, in many ways, _being_ one - he had paid attention over the last three months to where Selena Rourke went, who she spent time with, how she was doing. And now that he'd located her at her usual luncheon spot, a quiet little café on Diagon Alley with her two best friends, he didn't go in for a moment but lurked near the window and watched. 

It was fine, he told himself. He wasn't pressed up against the glass and panting heavily. This was both altruistic and discreet. 

There was a reason he'd watched from afar, and that was because the moment Phlegethon had ended, Selena Rourke had wanted nothing to do with him - or Albus, or Rose. It wasn't that she was rude or cold. But social arrangements were shrugged off, or brief and perfunctory, and her attitude was disinterested and haughty, and within a matter of weeks they'd got the memo. 

Their time together with Phlegethon had been only fleeting. Now it was back to the status quo. 

This was why his observations had been from afar. The reason his observations were kept up at all was because the status quo had been bought with the life of her boyfriend. 

He was _almost_ certain she was retreating, tortoise-like, into a protective shell of her old self where nothing mattered but gossip and hair and makeup, and where boys were fleeting toys to be disposed of, and where Methuselah Jones did not feature one jot in her life. As it had been before. 

Though as he watched her sit in that café with Abena and Miranda, he was reminded that he was only _almost_ certain this was a mask. Because she was laughing, she was smiling, she was flipping her hair and fluttering her eyelashes at the waiter, and he could look at her and believe her last year had been nothing at all. 

It was only the memory of her collapsed over the corpse of Methuselah Jones, screaming his name in utter desolation, that made him doubt. 

The café had a little bell on the door that tinkled when he walked in, which meant his arrival didn't go unnoticed. The reaction from the table the three girls were sat at was interesting. Or, strictly speaking, the table didn't react, because it was a table. 

Miranda's reaction was the most honest, because they hadn't really talked since Phlegethon and the entire issue of her lying to the whole school about him cheating on her had clearly become something of an embarrassment after she'd almost died. But it didn't mean she was welcoming. Her smile was hesitant, awkward. Selena, meanwhile, just continued laughing at what Abena had said, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and gave him a dismissive glance like she didn't expect him to approach. 

It was Abena, often the most sensible of the trio, who gave him a pitch-perfect smile and waved him over. 'Scorpius!' 

He put on his swagger, because everyone would be happier if they played their little games, and headed over. He'd hoped to catch Selena early, on her own, but they were wily, these women. 'Ladies, always a pleasure. Mind if I join you for a spot of tea?' 

'You're always welcome.' Abena pushed the remaining chair out with her toe and he sat down. 'How've you _been_?' 

There was sympathy in her voice, he thought, and Scorpius remembered that he'd always quite liked Abena. She put on airs but they were mostly for the sake of keeping social conventions calm rather than to manipulate. A dishonest smile in the right place would be used to soothe nerves or pride rather than deceive maliciously. It had been Miranda he'd resented for lying, and Selena he'd thought stupid and mean until he knew better, but he'd never had a personal problem with Abena. 

'I'm fine, don't you worry about me. The Potters are great, and I'll bounce back. I always do.' He gave her his charming smile and nodded to the waiter for some tea, before he turned to Selena and tried to sound casual when he said, 'I didn't see you there the other week.' 

Selena arched an eyebrow at him. 'Where?' 

_Tell Selena I'll be thinking of her..._ A familiar cold knot tied in his gut, and he tried to remember to be sympathetic. 'You know where,' he said softly. 

She reached to butter a scone. 'I can't visit his grave _every_ week, Scorpius; life has to go on -' 

'What about a three month anniversary, can you make it there for that?' His shoulders tense. This wasn't what he'd come to talk about, but he'd begun his questioning wanting to make sure she was all right. That she was being dismissive didn't help. 

Selena took a bite out of the scone, and didn't answer until she'd swallowed, meeting his angry gaze calmly. 'I'm sorry, Scorpius. He was a sweet boy, he was incredibly brave, and we all owe him a lot. We really do. But I'm not going to lurk around, wailing like a lost soul for the rest of my life.' 

He watched her, stunned and horrified, and so there was a silence where Miranda could speak. Because she was almost always the one who knew exactly what to say, and even Abena followed her lead. 'How's Rose, Scorpius?' 

He accepted the diversion. 'She's good,' he said, and made himself smile as his tea arrived. 'I don't see her as much as I'd like with being all busy and, well, parents.' 

Miranda gave a smile he thought was honest. 'They can be awkward. Aren't you going on holiday, soon? How's that shaping up?' 

'With trouble, actually. Bloody Kirke's dropped out.' 

Selena snorted. 'You can't rely on Hestia Kirke? I'm astonished.' 

'So we need a fourth person to come with so we can cover the portkey costs and Rose had hoped you'd like to come along,' said Scorpius. It wasn't strictly a lie, he told himself. Rose _would_ be pleased if Selena wanted to be more friendly again. But it was a cheap manipulation of Selena also, and it would save him face if the request backfired because, after all, he was only asking on behalf of his girlfriend. 

'Oh, you'll be away a few weeks, won't you?' Selena wrinkled her perfect nose. 'I couldn't. I'll be far too busy.' 

'We're starting in Venice,' he said, brow furrowing, because all of a sudden horrible prospects were looming in front of him and they were all called being stuck with his girlfriend's ex in a tent for a month. 'And going on from there.' 

'That sounds lovely,' she said, and sounded like she meant it. 'But I really can't go away right now, Scorpius. You understand?' 

He didn't, but he accepted she wasn't going to budge, and he peered into her bright blue eyes to see nothing but mild reluctance at letting him down - but other than that, utter indifference at all the world had to offer. 

'All right.' On an impulse he looked at Miranda. 'Can I talk to you a moment? Outside?' 

Miranda looked surprised, but then she was all perfect smiles. 'Of course.' But by the time they'd stepped into the street, discretion in a crowd granted by the fuss and bother of shoppers on Diagon Alley, she looked apprehensive. 'What is it, Scorpius?' 

He hesitated, then turned to her and decided to be honest. 'Selena - she _is_ all right, isn't she?' 

Miranda looked nonplussed. 'She seemed tired and a bit stressed after it was all over, but since then she's been fine, yes. She's getting past it. We all are, Scorpius.' 

His brow furrowed. 'You _do_ know that she and Jones were a thing, right?' 

'Selena.' Her eyebrow arched. 'And Methuselah Jones.' 

'Yes.' 

'A thing?' 

'I mean what you think I mean, yes.' Scorpius ground his teeth together. 'She didn't say anything about it?' 

'She mentioned a little fling, which was all a bit silly considering he was, you know...' Miranda hesitated. 'I mean, he was very brave, of course, but he was still _Jones_ , after all. You know what he was like. She said it was sad but it hadn't really been a big deal.' 

The icy coil of anger wound tighter in Scorpius' gut, and he gave a curt nod. 'Right. No big deal.' He looked away to glower down the street. 

Miranda bit her lip, obviously aware this was a problem and not sure why. '...you and Rose are doing well?' It sounded more like an effort to fill the silence and change the subject than a genuine question. 

'Hm? Oh, yeah. She's great.' 

'Good.' Her gaze went more sincere. 'I'm glad. I mean. You should have someone great. I didn't think it would be _Weasley_ , mind, but... I'm glad.' Miranda tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear. 'I am sorry, you know that?' 

Scorpius sighed. 'It doesn't matter. But, thank you.' He looked back to the café and realised he didn't want to sit around with Selena acting like nothing had happened, telling the world nothing had happened, and maybe even believing it. 'I'm going to go. Say bye to the others for me.' 

He didn't wait for a reply before he turned and stalked off down the road. 

The main heart of Diagon Alley heaved with people still, though he could feel the tension in the air. It had been there for weeks, all the time since Phlegethon had ended, and Scorpius suspected it had been worse during the crisis. For two and a half decades, wizarding Britain had thought itself safe from outside threats and now that shattered peace had ended. Even though life went on, everyday habits unchanged, it was with an uneasy air, as if everyone knew they might lose normalcy at any moment. 

Today, with the news from Brazil, it was even worse. Now, nobody wanted to linger, and so with his bad mood Scorpius found himself keeping pace with the crowd, stomping down the street and, diverted by his temper, not looking where he was going as much as he might. 

Until he ran smack into someone. 

Scorpius scrabbled to stabilise himself and flailed to grab the other person to steady them, too. 'Oof, I'm terribly sorry - oh, Professor!' 

Nat Lockett had almost dropped her bag at the impact and so gave a wan smile when Scorpius' hand settled around the strap - though she, too, looked pleased enough at the encounter, if not the impact. 'Scorpius, fancy running into you like this.' 

He grinned, bad mood dissipating. 'I thought it had been a while since we bounced off one another, Professor - what it's been, weeks?' 

'And months since I was your teacher, and I won't be again in September, so you don't have to call me "Professor", you know?' Lockett stepped nearer the window of Flourish & Blotts so they were out of the flow of pedestrian traffic that had thrown them together. 

'I thought that was your first name. But, seriously, how've you been?' 

'Busy,' she sighed. 'The task force is still struggling to find a way to form a cure from the Resurrection Stone which doesn't require carting the Stone itself to every outbreak of Phlegethon across the globe.' 

He winced. 'The ritual?' 

'Is _dangerous_ , highly volatile even without the transformation you all did to the one at Hogwarts, and still requires energy of the Resurrection Stone. Those crystals wouldn't contain it for more than a few hours, no good for worldwide distribution.' 

'It's that bad?' Scorpius' brow furrowed. 'It's happening that often?' 

'Here and there, pockets across the world. We're answering as quickly as we can and it's remaining under control, and none have been as outright infectious as what happened at Hogwarts, but...' Lockett's voice trailed off. 'It's bad. Worse than the press says. Which is why it's super-sensible of me to talk to you about it in the middle of the road.' 

His lips twisted wryly. 'Fair enough. Any news on Thane?' 

'Nothing, though that's more the job of the people hunting the Council. The task force worries about Phlegethon.' 

'And how're the joys of working alongside Hermione Granger?' 

Amusement lit up Lockett's green eyes. 'And this from someone who _likes_ her. We're professional. How're the joys of going out with her daughter?' 

'She thinks I'm _lovely_ ,' said Scorpius, sticking his nose in the air and hoping he was right. 

'But you and the others are all right, yes?' 

'Oh, yes. I just came from seeing Selena, as a matter of fact,' he said, deciding to not mention the part where Selena was proving herself a prize bitch. 'Albus, Rose and me are going away for a bit, trip abroad. But, you should get in touch.' 

'Maybe,' said Lockett, in that friendly way which made it clear she probably wouldn't, and he could understand why. There wasn't much to say, after all, and he was the only one of them who'd had much of a personal relationship with Lockett during the Phlegethon crisis. He nodded and pretended to believe her, then she quickly said, ‘What trip?’ 

‘Getting the old-fashioned world-tour in early, considering we’ll now be in Hogwarts for _another_ two years. Venice first, then - the world.’ 

Lockett’s eyes lit up. ‘Make sure you stop by Morocco. It’s a brilliant country, really beautiful.’ 

'I’ll pester the others on that one. How's Brynmor?' 

Something coy tugged at her expression, and he did a bad job of hiding a smirk. 'You were at the back of the queue the day they handed out discretion, weren't you, Scorpius?' 

'I thought we were catching up?' he said innocently. 

She shrugged. 'All right, then. We're getting married.' 

He blinked. 'Oh, wow. Congratulations!' 

'It's not really that fast,' she said, anticipating his thoughts, 'when you take into account we've known each other for over twenty-five years.' Lockett sighed. 'I'm travelling a lot for the task force. But he's retired from professional Quidditch now, and we let work get in the way before, so he's bullying his way into coming with me and, well... we decided to not wait any more.' 

'I'm not judging,' said Scorpius sincerely. 'I think it's great, really -' 

And that was when his father appeared behind Nat Lockett as if from nowhere. One moment the crowd had been heaving down the road; the next it was much, much smaller, and a pale shadow slid from the ranks to intercept their conversation. 

'Scorpius.' 

Lockett only needed one look at his face before she seemed to have figured out what was going on, and her expression was a rictus of forced cordiality which nobody was supposed to think was sincere as she turned to face Draco Malfoy. 'Mister Malfoy, a _pleasure_ to see you again,' she said too-politely, sticking her hand out so he couldn't ignore her. 

Draco looked between them, but at Scorpius' silence he had no choice but to shake Lockett's hand dourly. 'Again?' he repeated with disinterest. 

Something flashed in her eyes. 'Yes. We met at Hogwarts three months ago. Quite aside from being at school at the same time and playing on opposing Quidditch teams. I can imagine why you might forget, though - I'm Nathalie Lockett, formerly a Hogwarts Professor, Order of Merlin First Class.' 

The bragging, so unlike her, could only be antagonistic, and Scorpius' jaw tightened as Draco arched an eyebrow. 'Oh, for pity's sake, Father, you know _exactly_ who she is, so have some courtesy for the woman who cured Phlegethon, would you?' 

'I know who she is,' said Draco as he let go of Lockett's hand and didn't look at her. 'I wasn't aware we knew one another _socially_ , however.' 

'He's trying to tell you to go away,' said Scorpius to Lockett, expressionless. 

'Ah, I couldn't have seen through the cunning ruse without your translation.’ 

'I thought he was being subtle,' he agreed, 'so I figured I'd help.' 

Draco looked half an inch from rolling his eyes and his gaze finally turned on Lockett. 'I would like a conversation with my son, if you'll excuse us.' 

'I think that rather depends on if your son would like a conversation with _you_ ,' said Lockett, then she gave Scorpius a questioning look. He sighed and nodded, and so she gave him a small, genuine smile. 'You should come to the wedding, hopefully it'll be after your trip. I don't think there's a place in the wedding party for Official Meddler, but we could make one.' 

Scorpius smiled as sincerely as he could smile in his father's company. 'You have a good day, Professor.' She didn't correct him this time, merely gave him a warmer smile, blanked his father, and headed down the road. 

Leaving the two of them together, alone in a crowd. Scorpius frowned and looked at the window of the bookshop as Draco finally said, 'You didn't read my letters.' 

'I didn't _reply_ to your letters. I read them. Well. Some of them. Some, they just skipped _right_ onto the bonfire, it was like they had a life of their own,' said Scorpius, and found he'd gone from deathly calm to ragingly furious in the blink of an eye. He clenched his fists. 'Get the message. I don't want to talk to you. Not by letter, not my Floo, not in person.' 

He turned to go, but then Draco had moved, reaching out to grab his sleeve. 'No, you will _listen_ -' 

Scorpius' blood went cold. 'Let me go or I _swear_ this is going to be a scene so public it'll make the _Prophet_ 's evening edition,' he hissed. 

Startled, Draco did let go. 'We cannot continue like -' 

'Actually,' said Scorpius, 'I think we can continue _almost exactly_ like this, just further away from each other. So I'm going to see about making that happen. _Goodbye_ , Father.' 

And, shaking with anger that pounded in his chest and nerves that rattled his knees, Scorpius tore away from Draco and stormed down the road, into the crowd, ostensibly aiming for the Leaky Cauldron but in truth just looking to get far, far away.

* * 

Rose had been to the Doyle home before. It was a handsome Georgian terraced house in a wizarding district of London, three stories tall and painted a white which was all the brighter against its dark roof tiles. The front yard was lined by a black metal railing that matched the fences around the trees which spotted the pavement and wept the last of their pink spring blossoms. 

Despite having grown up in the countryside, she had always thought it a beautiful house, and so this eased her anxiety as she trotted up the steps to the wide front door, pressed the bell, and waited. 

It was Matthias' father who answered, a man as tall as his son and with the same dark hair but going grey at the temples. He was also wearing an expression of recognition tinged with the apprehension of a parent who _thought_ they'd got their child's social life figured out and was now questioning everything they'd taken as a certainty. 

'Hi, Mister Doyle,' she said, smiling as brightly as she thought reasonable. 'Is Matt in?' 

He relaxed a shade, returning the smile, and stepped back from the door. 'Rose, always a pleasure. Do come in, Matt’s around. How've you been?' 

'Thank you - and I've been fine, thanks. I hope you're well, and how's Sophie?' She smiled as he let her into the hallway. Matthias had two sisters and whilst the elder, Annie, had left Hogwarts the year before and thus escaped Phlegethon, the Doyle family had seen their younger two children both infected. 

His smile softened. 'Doing better - fine, actually, really. They both are, Saint Mungo's has given them a clean bill of health. Sophie took a little longer, but that’s just because Matt took the physical recovery training more to heart…' He shut the door and turned to her, gaze intently locking on. 'I should thank you for all you did - thank you properly, that is, not just join the choruses. For what all of you've done this year, but also for writing those letters you did to us. So, thank you, for myself and my wife. Sincerely.' 

'We did what we had to. But I'm ever so glad both Sophie and Matty are all right.' 

He smiled again, nodded, then gestured up the stairs to release her. 'Go right on up, he's in his room. He won't have heard the door from up there.' 

'Thank you.' She did as bidden, going down the hallway, up to the first floor with Matt’s parents' offices and bedroom, past the second floor with his sisters' bedrooms, and then to the narrower stairway that led to the converted attic that was his room and, for the middle of three children and the only boy, his sanctuary. 

She let her feet creak on the bare wooden stairs to announce her arrival into the long room with its tapered ceiling. Late spring sunlight was falling through the high skylight she knew for a fact gave a grand view of the stars on a clear night, casting everything with a golden glow. The slanted ceiling was covered with old maps right next to the band posters; the straight wall below lined with bookshelves that featured everything from ancient histories and magical theorems to Muggle literature and wizarding thrillers. Though large, the room was filled with the eternal mix-and-match of its inhabitant’s interests. 

Who, himself, was looking right at her with an expression of undisguised surprise, pleasure, and apprehension at her arrival, risen from his desk and the large, open hardback book that lay upon it. 'Rose!' 

She returned the smile shyly. 'Hey, Matty.' 

He coloured a little as she remembered he'd been less fond of the affectionate nickname since they'd broken up - probably hadn't been too fond of it when they'd been a couple but then had motivation to put up with it - and she found herself turning pink as she realised several things. The first was that they'd spent no time together outside of school after breaking up, and this was certainly the first occasion she'd sought him outside of Hogwarts in the last year. 

The second was that they hadn't been together in his bedroom since the Christmas before last, and they'd been a couple back then. A very new couple, still entangled in the rush of discovery of one another which had come when they'd been made the prefects of their year and realised they had more in common than they'd known, and a more fierce connection and rapport than they'd anticipated. 

'What, er. What're you doing here?' said Matt. 'Not that it's not good to see you, I mean, it's been ages, or feels like it. Or, a little, _doesn_ 't feel like it...' 

Hugo had mentioned something similar - that, for him, Phlegethon had felt like it had only taken place over a week, if that, instead of months, so Rose found herself nodding despite Matt's ramble. 'Your dad let me in,' she said. 'I wanted to see you.' It was, she thought, a useful thing to say. Because otherwise he might not have figured it out. 

'Oh,' he said with deep understanding, and gestured to the chair he'd vacated before going to perch judiciously on the edge of his bed. 'That'll have confused him.' 

'He did seem a bit confused. Sorry. Ex-girlfriends should disappear after the relationship, parents don't seem to know what to do about them.’ 

'I wouldn't want you to disappear.' He smiled, then his brow furrowed a hint. 'How's Malfoy?' 

She was actually relieved he'd brought up Scorpius, though his frown confused her. He'd never cared one way or another about Scorpius before, but at least the elephant in the corner had been addressed. 'He's fine. Still staying with Albus.' 

'It's good between you two? I mean - things are okay?' His gaze stayed firm even though his voice faltered, cool grey eyes unwavering. 

She brushed an errant lock of hair behind an ear. 'Yeah, Matt. Things are good. I like him.' 

To her relief, his smile won out over his frown. 'Good,' Matt declared. 'I'm glad. I was a bit worried - I mean, Scorpius Malfoy? Thought you two _hated_ one another.' 

'We didn't know each other properly.' But, emboldened by his apparent softening on the topic of her boyfriend - he'd never liked Hector and had made little secret of it and on reflection she had to acknowledge this was probably not _only_ born of jealousy - she decided it was time to be upfront. 'I did come to ask you something, though. It's a bit... weird and sudden...' 

He brushed dark hair out of his eyes, his fringe always refusing to cooperate with his too-long hair. 'Go for it.' 

'We're going on holiday. Me, Scorpius, Albus and, until today, Hestia. But Hestia dropped out at the last minute, and it's a package deal for four on the portkey pass, and either the three of us have to make up the fourth person's difference or we have to find someone else. And a fourth person _would_ make it better. So we wondered...' 

Matt raised an eyebrow. 'Me? You didn't want to ask Rourke?' 

'We did,' Rose sighed. She'd got Scorpius' Floo at lunchtime on his failure to coerce Selena. 'She can't make it.' 

'And so I'm _third_ choice. I'm touched,' Matt drawled in the wry tone she knew meant he wasn't serious. 'For how long?' 

'A month, globe-trotting.' 

'To where?' 

'We've got a few places lined up - Venice, Morocco, Cairo, Greece. Maybe then across to India. But the pass is open, we can go pretty much anywhere as we fancy, and we want to keep flexible in case trouble pops up somewhere.' She saw his eyes light up as she talked, and couldn't help but smile as she knew she had him. 

He looked across to one of the maps on the slanted ceiling. 'Throw in a trip to Jerusalem,' he said slowly, 'and you've got a deal.' 

She beamed. 'Really?' 

'Sure! I'll have to talk to Mum and Dad so don't have me make an Unbreakable Vow over it, but it sounds great, I've got some savings, I'm getting _bored_ with nothing to do but wait until school's back in, and if yours and Albus' parents are okay with you two going away, Mum and Dad won't have an easy time of complaining.' 

Her smile widened. 'I'll send you all the information so you can sort out the portkey - but also win them over.' 

'Better to come at it with a full list of what's planned, what's known, what's decided on, so they don't hit me with questions I can't answer,' Matt agreed, grinning. Then he paused. 'Malfoy's all right with this?' 

'Of course, why wouldn't he be?' 

'Well. Going away with his girlfriend and his girlfriend's ex. It's not going to be weird?' 

'It's not going to be weird for me. Is it going to be weird for you?' 

He smiled at her. 'No,' he said. 'Not at all. We're friends, right?' 

'Of course. Then it's not going to be a problem.' 

She left shortly after, let out by Matt's gently bewildered father, and headed for the nearby alleyway she knew was good to apparate from. It was only when she was there, lurking in the gloom and making sure the coast was clear, that she remembered something else. 

She and Matt Doyle had _never_ been friends. They had been house mates for the first four years of Hogwarts, chatty in class and at the dinner table and in the common room, but they'd not really hung out. There had been an acknowledgement that they were the two bright sparks of their social group and their year in the house - across all houses, to a degree, because of the other boys, Methuselah Jones was an utter social isolationist and Garrett Saxby a less well-rounded scholar. And they'd bounced well off one another if working together for class, but they hadn't, really, had much of a personal relationship. 

Until they'd become prefects, and patrolling together had led to long walks together, late at night, down the corridors and on the grounds. One patrol in particular, early in November when the night air had been crisp and cool and he'd put his arm around her when it had been colder than anticipated out near the Herbology greenhouses, had ended up less about making sure nobody was up to no good, and more about getting up to no good themselves with a first, furtive, sweet kiss. 

Her first kiss ever, to be precise, and she suspected his, too, though he'd never admitted it. 

When they'd broken up, prefect duties had been _awkward_. And they'd retreated to their friendship groups, her with Hestia and sometimes Cheryl, him to John Colton and Randolf Willoughby and the others, and though they'd been civil and even chatty if the topic engaged them, they'd not been close again. 

They'd not been _friends_. 

Before she disapparated Rose wondered if she'd made a terrible mistake, then reasoned they had few options and it was a bit late to consider this. It was time to press on. 

Concern _completely_ disappeared when she made it home, stepped in through the back door, and found not only both her parents waiting for her in the sitting room, but Uncle Harry and Albus, too. Albus looked furtive and trapped, but not guilty, so she knew whatever was going on had him in the same boat as her. He still smiled when he saw her, awkward and strained. 'How'd it go with Matthias?' 

'Er,' said Rose eloquently, and looked across at them all. 'He's good to come along. He needs to confirm it with his parents, but he reckons they'll be okay.' 

'Good,' said her mother decisively and to her relief. 'I'll stop by Legal Affairs tomorrow and talk to Jen Doyle anyway, it'll probably make this all go better if the parents are staying in touch. But the Doyles are sensible.' 

Rose knew what the subtext of this was - that the Kirkes were _not_ sensible people. This judgement was not based off their refusal to let their daughter travel, but Hestia's flightiness seemed genetic, and her mother had never seemed to know what to make of her daughter's best friend. In truth, there was a reason Hestia and Rose weren't as close as they'd once been, but Hestia had still seemed like a good bet for company and to make up numbers and as someone who brought with her absolutely no emotional baggage. Except, sometimes, screeching dislike of Scorpius. Overall, an ex-boyfriend was perhaps a better option. 

But, for now, she was being cornered by her parents and uncle, and her eyes narrowed. 'What's going on?' 

Her father gestured to the sofa where Albus was sat. 'Have a seat, Rosie. We want to talk to you about this holiday.' 

'We're _going_ ,' said Rose as she went to sit down. 'You can't pull the plug on this with only days to go, I don't _care_ about Brazil, we're not going anywhere _near_ Brazil -' 

'We're not here to stop you,' said Hermione soothingly. 'We just want to talk.' 

Albus looked between them. 'Is there a reason,' he said, 'why you three are here and Mum isn't?' 

Rose's lips thinned. 'We're not just talking with our parents, are we, we're talking with the team who killed Voldemort.' 

Harry, sat on the armchair nearest the window, sighed and nudged his glasses up his nose. 'Yes,' he said. 'That is, sort of, why it's us. Because your mother, Albus, is dear to us all, but there are some things you only understand by living through them, and I think you both understand that now.' 

Rose and Albus exchanged glances. 'Yeah,' he said. 'I think I do. Though I don't understand _this_. What's this about?' 

Ron leaned forwards, clasping his hands together. 'Prometheus Thane.' 

Rose wrinkled her nose. 'What about him? We don't even know where he _is_.' 

'Precisely,' said Hermione. 'He's dropped off the radar, the International Convocation isn't prioritising hunting for him, he's got nothing to do with Brazil or the Phlegethon outbreaks but he _is_ out there, and he's the one responsible for what happened at Hogwarts.' 

Albus tilted his chin up. 'You think we're going to go after him.' 

The three adults exchanged looks which told Rose that Al was right on the money. Eventually Ron sighed and opened his hands, looking at them both. 'Well,' he said. 'Are you?' 

'No!' exclaimed Rose. 'He's _dangerous_ , and he's only a part of what happened. The whole of the Council of Thorns were behind Hogwarts. And we're not going to go chasing _them_.' 

'I know it can be difficult,' said Harry, 'being up to your neck in things and then having to let them go. You were at the front line at Hogwarts. Now you sit back and you let the government, the grown-ups do their work. The professionals. You've given up your control.' 

'I for one _welcome_ this,' said Rose. 'Tangling with Thane's people almost got me _killed_.' 

'It's hard to sit around doing nothing,' Albus agreed, 'just listening to reports and the news when we used to be a _part_ of it. And it's why we're going away: to be busy. To do something. To use this time well, instead of idly.' 

Hermione glanced at Harry and Ron, then to her daughter and nephew. 'One thing the three of us have discussed,' she said slowly, 'is that we don't want you to think you can't talk to us about this. I don't mean just how you feel. I mean what you're doing. I know that you hid things from me during Phlegethon. Like the final ritual, and - what I'm saying is that I understand that.' Her lips thinned. 'I _did_ that sort of thing - _we_ did that sort of thing - in the war. Because we felt we had to.' 

'We won't be angry, is what she's saying,' said Harry. 'Or try to stop you, or tell you it's not your place. We don't want you doing something foolish - that's not the same as saying we want you doing _nothing_.' 

'Actually, we do want you doing nothing.' Ron's lips twisted. 'We'd rather you stayed at home, but then again, we'd rather wrap you in cotton wool and never be in danger. But that won't happen. And you're growing up, and you've got a right to deal with the problems in front of you, the people who hurt you. So what we mean is, we want to _help_.' 

'We're not parents telling you off for doing something naughty,' said Hermione, and her voice dropped. 'We... we understand. Sometimes things need to be done. Sometimes it has to be you.' 

'And sometimes you choose it being you and that's all right, too. Even if it's not what we'd wish for you,' Harry said. 'You don't need to hide things from us.' 

Rose and Albus exchanged another look. 'Okay,' said Albus, then he turned to their parents and spoke with utter sincerity. 'This really is just a holiday.' 

She was relieved when her father broke into laughter, flopping back on his armchair. He looked at his wife and best friend, corners of his blue eyes crinkling. 'Of course it bloody is,' he said. 'After all that fuss.' 

Rose wrinkled her nose. 'You honestly thought this was our secret undertaking to go hunt a mercenary across the world? The three of us and _Hestia Kirke_?' 

Hermione looked abashed. 'I thought Hestia was a ruse and was never going along at all, which is why she dropped out at the eleventh hour.' 

'And Matthias Doyle?' 

'Actually has a brain.' Hermione hesitated. 'Hestia doesn't need a brain to be a very good friend of yours.' 

'Your affection for my friends, Mum, is touching.' 

'The point,' said Harry, lifting his hands, 'does remain. We're here for you. As your parents, of course, but also as people who've been where you've been, at your age, and younger. We get it. You don't need to hide from us. We might not want trouble for you, but sometimes you don't get a choice - practically and, well, morally. Sometimes you have to face down evil.' 

'If you run into trouble out there,' said Ron, 'for pity's sake, _tell_ us. We won't demand you come home at once. We might worry ourselves stupid, but you're adults now, and we'll respect that.' 

Hermione nodded. 'We want you safe, and guidance is probably more practical than shielding you from everything the world does. The time for that has passed.' 

'We understand,' said Rose. 'But we just want to get away. Have a holiday with the people we like in interesting places.' 

Albus nodded, lifting his hands. 'And if we can go this entire trip without hearing the names Prometheus Thane or Council of Thorns, I, for one, will be _delighted_.' 


	4. Hitch Your Wagons

'News on Prometheus Thane has been thin on the ground,' said Lillian Rourke as her daughter trailed her through the offices of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Or, more specifically, the part of it where the British branch of the International Magical Convocation, the global council of increasing prestige and power formed to fight the Council of Thorns, resided, with Lillian Rourke herself at the head of it. 'He's simply not the priority.' 

'The man was responsible for Hogwarts,' said Selena through gritted teeth as she followed her mother through the bullpen to Lillian's office. She could walk straight-backed, head held high, full of confidence and cool detachment, and almost, almost feel it. 'He should be a priority.' 

'I know,' Lillian sighed. 'But getting the Convocation to agree on anything is difficult.' 

'How are they reacting to Brazil?' 

'With fuss and panic.' Her mother grimaced as she let them into her office, a big affair with large windows through which streamed the afternoon sun and a huge desk upon which every single memo in Britain seemed to sit. 'I'm pushing for trade sanctions against them for starters. France and Germany are backing me, Europe's making progress in leading the charge of getting things _done_.' 

' _You_ should lead the charge in getting things done,' said Selena. 'You seem to be the only one who's getting results.' 

'It's kind of you to say so, dear,' said Lillian with a thin smile, moving to sit herself down at her desk. 'But you do only hear my side of it. That said, we should have elections for the first official Chairman in two weeks, and I do anticipate carrying the vote. Then we can see about marshaling some real power in the Convocation to fight the Council of Thorns.' She rested her elbows on the desk and smiled more honestly at her daughter. 'But, not that it's not delightful to see you, my dear, was there something specific?' 

'I'm not interrupting, am I?' said Selena. 

'No, I was just wondering if I could help you.' 

'I like to keep up to date on what's really going on. You always say how the press don't know half the truth and the other half are lies and manipulations anyway. And you work late. Not that I mind. You're busy.' She shrugged. 

'But you asked about Thane.' 

'He... matters. He did this to Hogwarts.' 

'The Council as a whole brought Phlegethon to Hogwarts.' Lillian's expression creased. 'I know you're still terribly upset about your young man -' 

Selena lifted a hand. 'I _was_ upset. I'm sorry about what happened to Methuselah, but it's not about him. I'm past him. He was sweet but we weren't all that close. I'm sad about Tim Warwick, too. But Phlegethon hurt my friends and Thane did that himself.' 

Lillian watched her for a moment, then sank back on her chair and rifled through the papers before she pulled out a file, which she flipped open. 'Prometheus Thane was spotted last week in Copenhagen, along with several identified members of his team. His departure coincided with the disappearance of a Professor Dresdner, a world expert on magical archaeology, and his assistant, after they failed to show at a conference. Since then there have been a few rumoured sightings, but nothing concrete.' She tossed the folder back down on the desk, closer to Selena's side. 

Selena frowned. 'And he's not being hunted?' 

'He would be,' said Lillian, voice going tight, 'but he's travelling across borders and the Convocation is loath to cooperate in arranging an international task force to hunt him like they're hunting other known members of the Council. His prestige after the Hogwarts infection ended has reportedly dropped, and so he's considered a lower priority.' 

Something pinched in Selena's throat. 'He _infected_ Hogwarts, he shouldn't be a lower -' 

'I agree. I suspect foul play; Egypt are dragging their feet, as is Turkey, and I anticipate the hand of the Council themselves there. Thane might have less prestige but he's also dangerous and operates independently very efficiently. I think it's in the Council's best interests for him to move freely, and I think they want to do anything to stop the Convocation from interfering with him.' 

'And this Professor?' 

'I have no idea,' admitted Lillian. 'That could be simply coincidence. But so long as my hands are tied with him in the Convocation, I imagine we won't know. Perhaps if I make Chairman we can do something about this, but we shall see.' 

'I don't -' 

Selena was interrupted by the fireplace in the corner of her mother's office crackling to life with green flames, and Lillian gave her an apologetic look. 'I should take this,' she said. 'I'm sorry, my dear. Let yourself out, and I'll see you at dinner.' Lillian stood and headed for the fireplace, soon enough entrenched in a dry discourse with a flickering face Selena didn't recognise. 

It was always like this. Conversations with a busy mother who did her utmost to make the time for them both, and she never resented her for it, but sometimes it was trying. All she could do now was get out of the way and wait until later, because there probably wasn't going to be more to learn here. 

So Selena sighed, and got to her feet, and picked up her bag to slip it onto her shoulder, and when her hand brushed against the folder on the desk she didn't really think about it much. 

Much.

* * 

'They actually asked that? Mental.' Scorpius shook his head as he flicked his wand lazily and, as anticipated, the burst of red lights that shot out the end was easily deflected by Albus. 

'Oi,' Albus said. 'Concentrate. Or I'll smack you down until you do.' His retaliation was a more vicious Stun that forced Scorpius back a step so he'd have the room to bring up his Shield spell, and he almost didn't raise it in time. 

They were down the bottom end of the garden at Rose's house, just before the rhododendron bush and in a wide, open space where he and Albus could fling spells at one another with abandon. There was more room for them to practice here than at Godric's Hollow, and with Rose flopped on the grass not far away with an array of maps strewn out before her as she idly took notes and watched them, all in all it seemed a good place to go to kill an afternoon. 

'I'm just saying,' said Scorpius, and this time feinted high before he flung his Stun at Albus' ankles, making his friend dart to one side to avoid it. 'They think we'd hunt Thane?' 

'Obviously they think we're as damaged as they are,' muttered Rose, sticking a pencil behind her ear as she rummaged through papers, brow furrowed. 

He grinned at her, and grinned at the wrinkle in her nose at her consternation, and then Albus smacked him in the gut with a soft Stun and knocked him flat onto his back. 

'Told you to concentrate,' said Albus, twirling his wand in his fingers and smirking. 

Scorpius groaned, but saw Albus was going to let him get to his feet, and did so. Halfway there his wand shot out with sparks, and Albus raised his shield - then he did it again, and again, and Albus' brow furrowed as he easily deflected the onslaught, before the splash of one shield seemed much less bright than any other. 

That was when Scorpius swapped from quick, easily-cast illusions to divert or confuse his opponent to one hard-hitting Stun. Albus, complacent and uncertain in the face of Scorpius' light-show, had let his Shield's power slip, and the Stun punched right through it, ending up this time with him on his back on the grass with a groan. 

'Ha! How's that for concentration?' 

Albus laughed and sat up. As ever, he was more pleased by his friend's success than any sense of rivalry piqued at having been bested. 'It's a good trick,' he agreed. 'And you're good on those illusions, you're getting them more sophisticated. But you can't use it too often.' 

'I know, if they figure what's going on they'll just put up a Shield and hold firm, or smack me one. But so long as they don't, they're wasting more energy and concentration reacting to the light-show than I am putting it on,' said Scorpius, and headed over to extend a hand to help Albus up. 

A tinkling came from the direction of the house, and Rose stood. 'That's the front door. I'll be right back,' she said with some aggravation, and trooped up through the garden, up the hill. 

Albus accepted Scorpius' hand, got to his feet, dusted himself down, and waited until Rose was out of earshot before he spoke next. 'So, we're taking Matt with us after all.' 

Scorpius' expression went flat. 'Looks it, seeing as Selena's being a Grade O Bitch.' 

'You really don't think she's just trying to divert?' 

'If so, she's doing a _stellar_ job of it. No, it makes me wonder how much were she and Jones something to keep her busy during the crisis.' 

Albus' forehead creased. 'I don't know, mate. I mean, she was distraught when he died, absolutely broken. But - Matt.' Urgency entered his voice. They wouldn't have long to talk without Rose. 'Are you sure this is a good idea?' 

'No,' Scorpius conceded. 'But I don't have much of a choice right now, do I? He's coming, he'll pay, and besides. You and Rose like him. It's not like I'll have to spend much time with him.' 

'I just don't want this holiday to be awkward. I want it to be, you know. A _holiday_. Fun.' 

'I won't make a fuss. I'll be good as gold. Promise.' And Scorpius gave a sunny smile of innocent promise a split second before he saw the figure in the back door of the house. And the smile promptly _died_. 

It took Albus a moment to realise what was going on. One moment Scorpius was in front of him, grinning and joking - the next he was storming up to the house, fists clenched, shoulders iron-tense, and when Albus turned he saw exactly who had appeared to make him look like a bomb that was about to go off. 

Draco Malfoy, standing in the back door of Rose's house. 

'What the _hell_ are you doing here?' Scorpius thundered, by now a peculiar shade of pink. 

'I came to see you,' said Draco with utter calm, stepping out onto the back patio. 'She let me in.' 

Rose followed in his wake, twisting her hands together and looking pale. 'He just barged in past me,' she stammered, looking at Scorpius with absolute shame. 

'Of course he did,' Scorpius sneered, not in disbelief at her efforts to keep him out but in vehement disapproval of his father. 'I refuse to talk to you in Diagon Alley so you _hunt_ me here?' 

'You couldn't exactly storm off here,' pointed out Draco. 'Now, if you could send them away, we can talk.' 

'If I am sending _anyone_ away in this conversation, it is _you_!' Scorpius bellowed. 

Draco's nose wrinkled. 'Don't _shout_ , boy -' 

'I haven't been shouting at you _nearly_ enough, and now I've started I don't think I know how to stop! How _dare_ you come here, how _dare_ you try to -' 

'How _dare_ I?' His father's voice took on an icy edge. 'You walk away from me, from the family, from your duty to our household, and yet you still take the _money_ -' 

'That money is _mine_ , left for me in trust and now I'm of age it's mine, I'm not taking a single _knut_ of yours -' 

'Money of the _Malfoy family_ , money intended to go to the _heir_ , not some ungrateful child turning his back on his responsibilities -' 

'Responsibility to do _what_ , be an outrageous _arsehole_ and destroy the entire family?' 

Draco looked aghast. 'You walk away and _I'm_ the one who destroyed -' 

'You drove away Mum, didn't you?' Scorpius barked, by now beyond caring that Albus and Rose were right there, both of them drawn back from the yelling match between father and son, his world narrowed to a tunnel of his father and his hatred. 'Made life so unbearable she couldn't possibly stay with you -' 

'Or with _you_!' Draco pointed out. 'She left _you_ , too, if she was so bloody _saintly_ , why didn't she take you with her? Because she was a selfish, _selfish_ woman who just wanted to be far away with as much money as she could take me fore - why do you think she barely gets in touch, why do you think she's not even come _back_ since Phlegethon -' 

Scorpius raised his hands. 'This isn't the point,' he said, though his father's words were hammering into his gut and threatening to fester there. 'This is about me, and you, and how I don't want _anything_ to do with you any more.' 

'So you want me to disown you, is that it?' Draco sneered. 

'You wouldn't _dare_ ,' Scorpius retorted in the same tone. 'You need a precious heir for your precious lineage -' 

'Not if that heir is an irresponsible, ungrateful _brat_ who is abandoning _every_ principle this house has stood for!' Draco's voice went quieter, harsher, and that was like ice in Scorpius' gut, that was the tone he knew to resent and, ultimately, fear, above all the yelling in the world. 'Disregarding the traditions that made us and cavorting with blood traitors and rutting with a filthy half-blood -' 

The ice shattered. This was not freedom, though, but more like splinters exploding through every inch of Scorpius, and without thinking he was taking long steps towards his father until they were almost nose to nose. 'Don't you - don't you _dare_ bring her into this, don't you -' 

' _Enough_!' 

Hermione Granger's shout was like a whip through the air already crackling with energy, and it was enough to make the four of them jump. For Scorpius, at least, it broke the spell of the moment’s intensity, and he darted back from his father as if to be too close was to be stung. He realised, on some level, why Rose had been so slow to appear outside after Draco. Because she'd been sending word for reinforcements, and now they were here. 

Hermione's lips were nothing more than a thin line as she stepped onto the back yard, chin tilted up defiantly, gaze locked on Draco. 'Malfoy, I don't remember _ever_ inviting you to my house,' she said, voice hard as granite. 

Draco turned and his lip curled at the corner in a half-sneer. 'Weasley - or it's still _Granger_ as you insist on being, how very _modern_ of you. I am here to talk to my son. This is none of your affair.' 

There had been a slight twitch in Hermione's expression when he called her by her last name, but that only went more tense in the end. 'You're on my property, that makes it my every affair. You're upsetting a guest who is actually _welcome_ here, and you're saying things about my daughter when, frankly, I'd be happy if you never said a single word to a single member of my family _ever_ again. I put up with enough of your hateful rhetoric for ten bloodlines.' 

'Bloodlines, such as they are,' Draco muttered. 

Scorpius went light-headed. 'Oh, you hateful _bastard_ -' 

Hermione lifted a hand to cut him off, by now utterly implacable. 'You're not going to disown Scorpius, he's quite right. You have nothing to do here but blow hot air, and so even if I didn't despise you for yourself, that would make you unwelcome.' She drew a tense breath. 'And if you did disown him, I would consider him lucky to never have to visit Malfoy Manor again. I recall my last visit there. It left its _mark_.' 

There was a peculiar emphasis on her words that Scorpius couldn't place, but it made his father's expression flicker. When he spoke, there was a rough edge to his voice. 'Potter has fo-' 

'I'm. Not. Harry,' said Hermione in a flat voice. 'And I remember everything you did, everything you _didn't_ do, and I remember the war ending and you simply trying to toss around your backwards, hateful notions through more socially acceptable means. For our childhood alone, you are not welcome in my home. For your actions as an adult, I will not even be courteous about it. But for coming here to yell at this young man and insult my _daughter_ , you now have ten seconds before I forcefully eject you and if you are _very_ lucky you will leave the premises whilst _not a ferret_.' 

The pink in his father's cheeks only increased, before his expression pinched. He straightened, opened his mouth for a retort - seemed to think better of it, opened his mouth for some social nicety which might maintain some dignity - seemed to see the glint in Hermione's eye, and instead pulled out his wand and disapparated on the spot. 

When Scorpius exhaled, the shake was audible, and he took a step back. 'I'm - sorry you all had to see that,' he said, his voice rough. 'I should - I need to - I better -' And then all possible coherence fled from his thoughts and lips, and without another word he turned on his heel and stormed back down the garden away from the three of them, away from their gazes of confusion, or worry, or _pity_. Down the gravel path, past Rose's abandoned pile of books and maps, and towards the orchard at the foot of the garden - out of sight. 

He only stopped once he was sure they couldn't see him, the bushes and trees of the garden blocking him from sight. And even then he didn't stop moving, but pressed his knuckles to his temples and broke into a frantic pacing back and forth, as if he could march off the churning in his gut and the spinning in his head, as if he could screw out his father's words thumping through his mind. 

_Getoutgetoutgetout -_

He didn't know how long he was there, but it was probably not more than a few minutes even if it felt like hours before there was a gentle hand at his elbow, a gentle voice saying his name. 

'Scorpius?' 

'No,' he found himself saying, pulling away from Rose. 'Don't -' 

She looked startled when finally he opened his eyes to see her, pulling her hand back as if stung, worried and confused. 'I'm sorry, I just wanted to make sure you - I'm sorry, I'll leave you alone.' 

Even though that was what he'd wanted, was why he'd rebuffed her, when she turned away that only made the churning in his gut worse, and he dropped his hands. 'I'm sorry,' he called out as she headed back up the garden. 'Stop. Please. I'm sorry.' 

She did, and once she froze he could move, striding across the short distance, reaching out to grab her at the elbow, to turn her around - to pull her closer, one hand coming to cup her cheek, tilt her face up to his, and he kissed her. 

Not a gentle kiss of seeking reassurance, not a determined kiss to reassure _her_ , but a fervent, hungry embrace, his hold on her iron-tight, his breathing ragged and his lips greedy on hers. This was a kiss to try to melt the ice in him, a kiss to bring him back to the world of what was real and warm after he'd been set adrift in the cold. And when she made a small noise at the back of her throat, fingers clutching at his shirt and pulled herself closer, all but flowed into the kiss, into him, he could feel her dragging him back to the light from the dark. 

'I'm sorry,' he whispered, though not for some time, for he was beyond breath before he could speak, the words ragged against her lips. 'I'm sorry, I'm _sorry_...' 

'Don't be.’ Her hands ran across his shoulders, her fingers moving to entangle in the hair at his nape of his neck. 'That was him, _all_ him, and you're nothing like him and nothing like that hateful man _says_ you are...' 

'I couldn't stand it,' Scorpius said, voice torn. 'Listening to him, all over again, again, and then starting on you, when - you make me better, you make me worth a damn -' 

'I think if you weren't worth a damn before me, I sure as hell wouldn't have let you kiss me,' she said, hand pressing against his cheek to tilt his face down for their foreheads to rest together. 'Remember all you did, all you've done, your _heroics_ at Hogwarts, you got the Resurrection Stone...' 

'I -' _Didn't. I didn't. I lied._

'...and you're a _good_ friend, a caring man, warm, funny, considerate, no _wonder_ he can't understand or value any of that when all he values is himself.' 

He turned his face into her palm, grabbing her wrist to keep her close, eyes shutting. '...I should head back up there.' 

'You don't have to,' Rose whispered. 'When you're ready. Take your time. Nobody's going to push you, you're safe here, you're with people who don't judge you, you're with people who love you...' 

They were dangerous words, Scorpius knew on some level, though right then it seemed childish to fuss over semantics and forms of love even if the words thudded through his gut in a manner that was the innate opposite of how his father's had. He managed a wan, exhausted smile. 'No, I should... show my face, thank your mum.' 

She nodded and gave him one last kiss before she pulled back, her hand sliding down to his and absolutely refusing to let him go as they wound their way back to the path leading to the rear of the house. Albus and Hermione were still stood on the patio, his concern rather more obvious than hers, though they both looked relieved to see them returning. 

It was Scorpius' instinct to let Rose go in the presence of her parents - not that they had no idea what was going on, but he had a preference for not radiating, 'I'm here to despoil your daughter'. But she didn't let him and he was too numb to pull away, and so he had to twist his free arm awkwardly to give Albus a companionable thud on the shoulder. 'I'm all right,' he said, and his voice sounded halfway genuine, which was reasonable as he was only halfway all right. Albus looked reassured by the punch more than his words, and Scorpius looked to Hermione. 'Thank you,' he said. 'Very much, thanks for... getting rid of him.' 

'It was my pleasure,' said Hermione in a level voice. 'For my own sake, I confess, as much as yours. I've never liked him. And I stand by what I said. _You_ are welcome here. He most certainly is _not_.' 

Scorpius smiled, the icy tension abating, and softening even more as Rose squeezed his hand, but he couldn't keep the wry note from his voice. 'You're very kind,' he drawled, and glanced around the garden. 'But after that, I think getting away, _far_ away, if only for a little while, sounds like a _splendid_ idea.'

* * 

'Are you _sure_ you can fit everything in there?' 

'For the tenth time, Al, Mum taught me this charm. We don't need to lug huge cases across Europe. Everything will fit in this.' Rose gave Albus a reassuring smile as the three of them hurried down the corridors of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, on the lower levels where the international portkeys were arranged and waiting. 

The 'this' to which she referred was just a backpack, slung over her shoulder and into which had disappeared the travel bags of all three of them, a tent, and the assorted supplies for when they would need to camp out. Even though Scorpius had seen and helped pile everything into it before they'd left the Old Rectory, he shared Albus' dubiousness. 

'Of course,' Scorpius said, shrugging past a group of Indian tourists heading out from one of the Portkey chambers, 'this does mean that if we lose the one bag we're _wholly_ buggered.' 

Rose pursed her lips. 'Sweetie, you packed enough clothes to costume up a whole cast on the West End. Do you really want to carry those cases across Europe?' 

'I was thinking of having my luggage shipped ahead of me,' he said with an imperious toss of the head. 'The bellboy at the Ritz will pick it up for me and have it in my room upon arrival.' 

Albus snorted. 'We're camping and getting cheap rooms. Not languishing in the lap of luxury.' 

'Despite my best efforts in the planning stage being thwarted.' But Scorpius stayed silent, not pressing this point. Money had never been a huge issue between him and his friends, because neither he nor Albus had particularly wanted for anything. But while Scorpius had seen his father carelessly throw money at him and now was enjoying the savings from Draco and everything in his trust funds, Albus' parents had tried to instill him with a sense of fiscal responsibility. Pocket money was generous enough to fund a self-sufficient holiday. It was also, by design, tight enough that planning and common sense would be needed, which meant rather fewer bookings at the Ritz and dusting off an old tent. 

This, alone, would make it a novelty for Scorpius. 

He glanced at the all-important rucksack. 'You know, we should probably be gentlemanly and carry it for you.' 

'Albus can, if he wants,' said Rose. 

Albus raised his eyebrows. 'I'm good.' 

'Why just him?' 

'Because I trust him to not lose it.' 

Scorpius narrowed his eyes. 'Meaning, you'd expect me to lose it?' 

'Oh, sweetie. I know you have many talents,' said Rose diplomatically, but before he could summon a retort she'd checked the paper in her hand and pointed to one of the doors down the long corridor of portkey chambers. '13A, that's us.' 

International portkeys were different to the old boots and bits of tat that were unofficial portkeys, usually left in a discreet location to allow swift transport. Moving between countries took considerably more magical power and was also highly regulated by magical governments. To make use of one cost money, required a booking with the Ministry, and arriving at the appointed time when a specific permanent portkey would be ready for transit to the desired destination. The chambers were specially magically warded and shielded to make the connection across the long distance strong, and the portkeys themselves rested upon pillars charged with energy to rejuvenate them. Instead of a bit of rubbish waiting for them on the other side, they were greeted by a solid silver ring, every inch of it constructed for this specific purpose. 

They were also greeted by Matthias Doyle, who had been lounging against the wall with a book that he was now sliding into the hefty rucksack resting at his feet. 'I'm in the right place, good.' 

'You are, sorry we're a bit - is that what I think it is?' Rose's eyes landed on the book he was putting away and promptly lit up. 

Scorpius chewed the inside of his lip as Matt gave a small smile and pulled it back out. 'Yup. A Book of Many Books. It's only tied to my shelves so it's not amazing, but -' 

'I've had to pack about _twelve_ books and I still had to cut some,' Rose gushed, hurrying over with hands outstretched as he offered it over. 

'It's true, she tried putting a shelf in there,' said Scorpius, nodding to Rose's bag. But for some reason the words came out a lot more harshly than he intended, and he got a warning glance off Albus for his troubles. 

It was a mixed blessing, then, that Rose was so entranced by the Book of Many Books. 'I keep meaning to save up for one of these, but you know how it is.' 

'I know.' Matt grinned. 'Why get a book to let you read other books when you could just get _more_ books? It was a birthday present.' 

Scorpius blew out his cheeks and checked his pocket-watch. 'So, Venice in five minutes,' he said pointedly. 

'What _is_ it?' said Albus, looking at the book and obviously deciding that bridging this gap would be wiser than letting it fester. 

'A Book of Many Books,' Rose repeated, leafing through the pages. 'You need to bind it to a specific library, one you own, but it means you can access any text on those shelves. So, in this case, Matty can read _anything_ he's left at home and only has to pack one book.' 

Scorpius looked at Matt, who stood straight, eyebrows raised, gaze flat and determined. 'That's great,' said Scorpius. ' _Matty_. Really cool.' 

Matt Doyle gave a thin smile. 'I'd let you borrow it, Malfoy,' he drawled. 'But I don't have any Quidditch magazines in there.' 

Again, Scorpius narrowed his eyes. _Doyle 10, Malfoy 0_. But to respond would be to escalate, and Rose was just emerging from her book-fuelled haze and looking at her watch. 'We _should_ make sure we're ready to... wait a moment.' She peered at the pillar in the middle, then moved closer, checking the papers next to the Portkey. 'This one's to Berlin.' 

'Shit,' Scorpius breathed. 'We're in the wrong chamber?' 

Rose gave a small squeak of fuss and pulled her roll of parchment with their booking details out again. 'No, no, 13A, we're in the right place, but the Portkey's not enchanted for the right destination -' 

'Oh, but it is!' 

Scorpius turned to the new voice at the door and _stared_ at Selena Rourke, stood there in good boots, an expensive jacket, and a perfectly adorable suitcase levitating gently in her wake. 'We're going to the Black Forest!' she declared. 

Stunned silence met her arrival as Scorpius failed to summon a response to her presence, to her change of heart, and to this apparent change to their itinerary. In the end it was Matt who spoke first, the one of them with the least reason to be surprised. 'Cool,' he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. 'There's some awesome hiking out there, and some _great_ old castles...' 

'We're going to Badenheim, in Germany,' gushed Selena, trotting into the middle of the chamber. 'They have this little end-of-spring festival, it's only once a year and it starts _tomorrow_ ; I know we said we'd be going to Venice, but we can go _on_ to Venice, and we really won't get another chance for something like this.' 

Rose was still staring at Selena, Albus had his head cocked to one side like he'd been punched and hadn't yet responded, and Scorpius again went fishing for words. 'Wait a minute. You want us to delay going to _Venice_ so you can absorb some rural German magical _culture_?' 

Selena hesitated. 'And shopping?' 

Scorpius closed his eyes. 'There it is.' 

'Um,' said Rose, her first noise in about two minutes. 'Not that it's not _lovely_ to see you, Selena, but... but...' She flapped her hands. 'Our Portkey Pass is for four, and it was _Matt_ who bought onto it -' 

'I bought another!' Selena beamed. 'Just a solo one, you four have yours and I have mine, but it's the same free-roaming arrangement, we can all jump on the exact same portkeys!' 

Scorpius again flailed for words. 'But didn't you - I mean you said - you weren't going to -' 

Then Albus had nudged him significantly in the ribs - which, from a man of Albus' size, was rather like getting headbutted by an ox - before he moved forward to wrap Selena in a warm hug. 'I'm so glad you're coming with us,' he said, and being Albus, he had to mean it. 'Of course we can go to Badenheim first. It sounds great.' 

Scorpius knew his best friend. Albus would be giving Selena the benefit of the doubt, believing she'd decided that she didn't want to be alone or away from the people who understood what she'd gone through, but had too much pride to _ask_. He would be welcoming her with open arms to make it clear she could tag along with them if that was what she wanted, and if he was right, if Selena really was just lonely and hurt, it was the right thing to do. 

But for Scorpius' part, he wasn't entirely convinced they hadn't been press-ganged into Selena Rourke's pan-European quest for a new wardrobe. 

'Badenheim,' mused Matt, scratching his nose. 'There's something about Badenheim...' 

'It's old!' said Selena happily. 'Lots of things there. You can bookworm at them with Weasley and then we can pretend to be interested but instead fall asleep. But, no time, no time! It's going to power up any moment, so grab on, and we have a follow-up waiting for us in Berlin to take us to the Black Forest!' 

Scorpius met Rose's eye as they tromped obligingly to the silver ring in the centre. She shrugged, but gave him a reassuring smile also, and he relaxed. After all, even if Selena's timing was awful enough that she'd dumped them for the trip with Matthias Doyle, she was another warm body, another person who wouldn't like Doyle, and another person to keep Rose engaged, to keep Rose amused, and above all, to keep Rose from nerding out with her ex-boyfriend. 

Which was rapidly storming, as a principle, to the top of his priority list for the whole trip. 


	5. Fly-by-Night

'It's a pretty town,' said Albus, his gaze sweeping up and down the wide, cobbled streets of Badenheim, across the white painted timber houses with their black wooden beams, at coloured shutters and the window-baskets resplendent with bright flowers. 

'It is,' said Scorpius, ambling beside him as they crossed a low stone bridge across a narrow but fast-running river which had come tumbling down from the wooded slope that stretched up to the northern horizon, filling the sky with the towering trees of the Black Forest. 'The view's pretty good.' 

'And the weather.' 

'All in all, it's a nice place.' 

'It is.' 

Scorpius stopped as they reached Badenheim's empty main square, nothing gazing down on them but the tall houses he would call 'quaint' if he wanted to be a snob, no company near by the birds that fluttered to the benches, the village quiet at this time of day. He sighed. 'Pity it's completely bloody empty.' 

Albus' brow furrowed. 'It's not a very good festival, no.' 

'It's not a festival _at all_ ,' Scorpius pointed out. 'This isn't some sort of late spring market, this isn't some sort of late spring _anything_. Selena was having us on.' 

The frown deepened. 'She might have been mistaken.' 

'Selena? Mistaken? About shopping? Doubt a compass points north, first.' 

Albus shrugged and opened his hands. 'Why would Selena trick us into coming to the middle of nowhere? What possible reason would she have? It's not even a joke, it's just...' 

'A waste of time,' grumbled Scorpius. 

'It's not. This place is _nice_ , Scorp. The campsite is nice -' 

'Except this town is completely Muggle, so we're having to hide.' 

'- the town is nice, the people are nice -' 

'We don't speak German! They might not be greeting us. They might be promising to murder us in our sleep, and we would _never know_.' 

'I'm just saying it's a _harmless_ diversion,' Albus pressed. 'There's a portkey from Berlin to Venice tomorrow evening. We spend a night here. We enjoy the area. And then we apparate back to the capital and we'll be on a gondola before you know it.' 

Scorpius kicked at the cobbles. '...why do you always have to look on the bright side?' 

'I'm monstrous like that,' said Albus, clapping him on the shoulder. 'Come on, let's pick up some local grub, because there's no point coming out here if we're not going to at least try the food, get back to the tent, and we can enjoy the evening. Maybe take a hike in the woods tomorrow morning.' 

'The woods _are_ pretty astonishing,' Scorpius conceded, and followed in his best friend's wake as they wound their way back the road they'd come, towards the northern exit from the town. 

Despite Badenheim being positively sleepy, it was also, as Albus had assured him, welcoming. They found a small butcher’s and between the two of them managed to wrangle their way through foreign languages and foreign, Muggle currency, though the latter took a lot of arguing about cents and knuts and lots of fingers being held up, and the former took a lot of Scorpius babbling on and pointing. He reckoned people barely understood him when he did that in English and he got by just fine, so it was a more universal way to communicate. And, for their efforts, they were rewarded with what Scorpius was almost certain were sausages. 

A ten minute walk around Badenheim had granted them much of what the village had to show for itself, so they took the road out of town and broke off onto the small footpath into the woodland. The sun was bright and warm and enough to pierce the verdant leaves of the tall, bowing trees, casting the path in speckled gold as they picked their way back to the campsite, and the breeze wafted the flowers on the verge, tugged the last blossoms into the air to buffet at their faces, brought to their senses all the scent of coming summer in the Black Forest. 

They had found a clearing near the river that led to Badenheim, and it was there they'd set up the tent. The wonders of magic meant they only needed two square metres of space to pitch, which had been almost entirely done by Albus and Matt as Scorpius offered, as he put it, "guidance and oversight". Rose had been discovering that a bottomless bag had certain disadvantages, like _finding_ anything in it, and so Al and Scorpius had left the other three to try unpacking and finding their bearings while they investigated the town. 

Steam was wafting through the flap in the tent and they ducked in to find Rose and Selena sat at the little round, wooden table in the main room with a pot of tea. Rose smiled at them both as they came in. 'Good timing.' 

'I sensed there would be tea, and I was summoned. It's my magic power. Well, that, and having magic,' said Scorpius, extending an open hand towards the teapot greedily. 

Rose swatted the hand. 'You can use your words, and your manners, and fetch your own mug. How's Badenheim?' 

'Um.' Albus pulled up a chair. 'Quiet.' 

'Yeah,' said Scorpius, going to the kitchenette and rummaging through the cupboards at random in a hunt for mugs. 'Good news: we found sausages. Bad news: I don't think there's a festival.' 

Selena pursed her lips, and Scorpius made sure to have his eyes on her to watch her reaction. He saw only confusion and disappointment. 'Oh, really? I got the dates wrong?' 

'How'd you hear about a festival out in the middle of nowhere, anyway?' asked Rose, finally giving up and going to the kitchenette to pointedly open the one cupboard Scorpius hadn't looked in, where the mugs sat. 'The middle of nowhere in Germany?' 

Selena flipped her hair over her shoulder. 'It was in _Witch Weekly_ ,' she said without missing a beat. 'All about the scarves.' 

' _Witch Weekly_ talked about the spring festival of a _Muggle_ village in _Germany_?' Rose quirked an eyebrow. 

'They spent a quarter talking about international Muggle fashions and cultures. I think that month was all about the more _rustic_ end. It looked cute.' Selena smiled and picked up her mug. 

_Every time I think she's not insipid..._ Scorpius sighed, grabbed two mugs, and sat himself down. To avoid more domestic troubles it was Albus who went for the teapot, instead of allowing Scorpius to assume that Rose was going to serve them. 'Not that asking this question should be an indication that I care, or anything, but where's Doyle?' 

Rose sat down and took a sip of tea. 'He went for a walk,' she said, voice neutral. 'Said he wanted to get a feel for the nearby area. Seeing as you two had gone down to the town.' 

Scorpius exchanged looks with Albus, who to his disappointment just wore a guilty expression. _No. Just because we're on holiday with the guy doesn't mean we have to be best buddies._ It was bad enough that he was going to have to share Rose's attention with the only other person on the trip who thought a book was exciting; sharing Albus would be crossing a line. 

'There wasn't much down there,' said Albus reassuringly. 'I bet the woods are way more interesting.' 

'It was all quiet?' said Selena, raising an eyebrow. 'Nothing going on down there?' 

'Certainly no festival,' muttered Scorpius. 

'I meant apart from the festival. Everything seemed normal?' 

'What's normal? We've never been there before,' said Albus. 'But no, it's just a sleepy little village. I say we take in the woods tomorrow morning, then apparate back to Berlin in the afternoon and get the early evening portkey to Venice.' He looked around the table. 

Rose nodded. 'That sounds nice. Though it _is_ very pretty here. I'm glad we've stopped off, we can have a nice night of camping and enjoy the area before we go.' She turned her smile on Selena, obviously trying to offer reassurance that she did not share Scorpius' opinion that this had been a gigantic waste of time, but Selena was stirring her tea, forehead wrinkled. 

'I just thought there'd be more out here,' she admitted. 

'There is!' came a voice from the doorway, and they turned to see Matt Doyle ducking through the tent flap. He was already in heavy, hob-nailed boots, a long waxed coat, and with his dark hair rumpled looked as if he'd just strode in from the moors on a windy, brooding day. 

Scorpius hated him even more. 

'I hiked up the hillside,' said Matt, and pulled a thermos out of his pocket as he sat down to pour himself what smelled like strong, fresh coffee. 'It's a hell of a view from up there, you can see the whole valley, and Badenheim's really pretty from up there. But...' He paused for a swig of coffee. 'There are castle ruins to the west. Perhaps a mile away. It must be Badenheim Castle.' 

'That would make sense,' Scorpius drawled. 'Seeing as we're in Badenheim and it's a Castle. _I'd_ call it Badenheim Castle.' 

Matt gave him a sideways glance. ' _Apparently_ it wasn't just the Muggle seat of power in the region, but pre-Statute the local wizards were very influential and would have had envoys and advisers at the castle. It fell into disuse by wizards after the Statute, and by Muggles after the Napoleonic Wars, seeing as the formation of the Confederation of the Rhine and Baden becoming a Duchy instead of a Margraviate made for a lot of changes -' 

'Do you just keep this sort of knowledge to hand for particularly riveting moments at parties?' Scorpius wondered, eyebrows raised, and sipped his tea. 

Matt flushed. 'I sat down at the top and did some reading, actually. The castle's supposed to be deserted. I thought we might take a look - tomorrow, it's going to get dark before too long.' 

Rose gave Scorpius a look. 'I think that sounds great. And interesting.' 

Further betrayal came from an unexpected source. 'It is! What sort of stuff do you think's in there?' said Selena, leaning forwards to look intently at Matt. 

He, for his part, looked quietly pleased. 'I only had a quick read and I don't have much on German history. And Badenheim isn't exactly important. But it doesn't seem to have been pawed over by historians, Muggle or Wizard, which is odd. Old holdings like that usually had all sorts - books, records, maybe some magical remains - and _someone_ would have shown interest.' 

'So we could be talking old magic relics? Lost books?' said Selena, eyebrows raising. 

'I admit, I'm just expecting some cool old castle ruins. I think Badenheim Castle would have been originally built by the Teutonic Knights, so it's probably a good seven hundred years old -' 

'You know, we should have a campfire tonight,' said Scorpius abruptly, getting to his feet. 'I'm going to go find some wood.' 

'I'll give you a hand,' said Albus, though Scorpius didn't wait before ducking out of the tent and storming across the clearing they were camped in to make for the tree-line. They were in the undergrowth, out of earshot from the tent, before Albus spoke again, and in his sulk Scorpius had almost forgotten he was with him. 'You don't need to be so tense.' 

'" _Ooh, look at me, I read books and am an enormous nerd with my pretentious_ swooshy coat _!_ "' Scorpius sneered, waving his hands in the air. ' _"And I go for long walks in the woods and then read about them and then come swooshing back to talk about castle ruins"_...' 

Albus' brow furrowed. 'You seem a bit fixated by his coat.' 

'I _want_ it,' Scorpius grumbled. 'But what happened to the good old days, Al? What happened to the days where girls' eyes glazed over if a boy decided talking about _class_ was exciting?' 

'Rose's eyes _never_ glazed over in those situations,' Albus pointed out, and decided to make himself useful by actually hunting for firewood. 'And if Selena was bored by academic talk, then I doubt her and Jones would have happened.' 

'Like that was a real relationship,' Scorpius scoffed. 'Listen to her, she spent the last few months reading about quaint scarves.' He waved a dismissive hand. 'Thought I could count on her to find Doyle a bore, though.' 

Albus hefted up a sizable log which would make a decent core of a fire and turned to him. 'Rose isn't going to dump you and run off with Matt because he's more academically-minded than you.' 

Scorpius stared at him. 'What?' 

'That's what this is about. You're intimidated by Matt and Rose both thinking an afternoon with a book is an afternoon well-spent -' 

'Thanks for making me sound wholly illiterate -' 

'They broke up for a reason, you know.' 

'Apparently they were _too_ similar,' Scorpius sneered. 'What's _that_ all about?' 

Albus turned his eyes skyward. 'I'm going to beat you with this log in a minute,' he sighed. 'Would you dump Rose for a girl who liked Quidditch?' 

'No, or I'd be going out with Cheryl Hawkins and she might like Quidditch but she's also _mental_ -' 

'Then give Rose a bit more credit.' 

'I'm not _not_ -crediting her -' 

'You are, you're basically saying she's going to toss you to one side the moment she's talking with a bloke she shares an interest with -' 

'I'm saying she - I -' Scorpius sputtered for a moment, then jabbed an accusing finger at the tent. 'What the hell do I contribute to a conversation when the two of them are wittering on together about the Confederation of the Rhine? I don't even know what that _is_!' 

'Okay.' Albus pursed his lips. 'I'm going to tell you two things. The first is that you make Rose happy, you make her relaxed, and you are _not_ an idiot and you two can talk plenty about serious things. The second is that I know you won't believe me, so for the love of Merlin, _talk_ to her -' 

'And, what, say I'm an insecure jackass who doesn't like her talking to her ex even though I said it was perfectly okay for him to come on holiday with us -' 

'I'd make it sound less like you want her to stop talking to Matt and more like, "I'm upset, let's talk".' 

Scorpius' nose wrinkled. 'Oh. This is one of those times where I need to do the girly thing of talk about my feelings even if there's no practical solution.' 

'Yes. Fortunately, this _isn't_ a girly talk, because I've given you a practical solution.' Albus gave him a warm, reassuring grin. 'She's mad about you, mate. Matt's just a friend. You don't need to worry, you don't need to panic, and you really, _really_ need to help me carry this damn log.'

* * 

The situation was very strange. Matt had been set off talking about what he'd been reading, which Rose didn't find at all peculiar and was actually interested in. It had been so long, with the quarantine and the aftermath, since she had read academically for pleasure that she'd forgotten the satisfaction that came with it. And Matt had a genuine fascination with history, especially the intersection of Muggle and wizarding society, and was a good speaker when he got onto something he was passionate about. 

None of this was odd. It was even nice, in a nostalgic sort of way. What made it odd to Rose, though, was that Selena was listening to Matt just as intently as she was. 

He was now talking about how it was apocryphal that the "two-fingered salute" had risen at the Battle of Agincourt - Matt was a good speaker, but prone to diversion if invited down a tangent - but the thought of it still had Selena laughing. And as she laughed, she tossed her hair over her shoulder. 

Rose narrowed her eyes. _She's_ **_hair-flirting_**. 

Selena caught her glance as she lowered her hand and seemed to realise she'd been noticed, her smile softening. 'Well. If the boys are out there building the fire, I'm going to freshen up before dinner,' she said, getting to her feet. When she headed to the girls' bunkroom, she let her fingers brush against Matt's shoulder, then trail across his back until she was past him, disappearing into the room. 

Rose let the door shut and waited to the count of three before she looked at Matt and leaned over, voice dropping. 'You should be careful,' she said, expression creasing. 'You know she's a terrible flirt.' 

Matt’s gaze tensed. 'I can fend for myself, thanks, Rose.' 

'I just mean - don't read too much into it. She's a flirt and I still think she's horribly upset about Methuselah -' 

'So, even if it's just harmless flirting, I shouldn't at all flirt back, or respond?' But he raised his eyebrows and now she sensed the irritation hanging about him. 'Should I, perhaps, go live in a monastery?' 

'What?' 

Matt sat up. 'You ask me to come on holiday with you and your new boyfriend. I agree to that. I'm cool with that. Even if he's being an arse.' 

'He's just -' 

'Being an arse; whatever. I can handle Malfoy. But could _you_ be a little less transparent?' 

Rose goggled. 'Transparent?' 

'Warning me off the _moment_ I'm talking to another girl?' 

'Bloody hell, Matt.' Rose's forehead creased. 'I was just giving you a friendly heads up.' 

'She's not my type, it's nothing more than some fun attention and I can, in fact, take care of myself.' Matt got to his feet and straightened his coat. 'I find it telling your friendly advice is telling me to stay _away_ from another girl.' He ran a hand through the hair that dangled into his eyes, and she was intently reminded of finding his refusal to get a decent haircut _annoying_. 'I'm going for a walk before dinner. And maybe we can calm down. Because I don't fancy this holiday being a trial.' 

'You're right,' said Rose, voice flat. 'I completely need to calm down, because I'm _obviously_ losing my rag right now.' 

He looked like he was going to say something else, then didn't, just sighed and turned to duck out of the tent. Rose glared frustrated daggers at his back and reached to pour herself another cup of tea. 

'And I wonder, sometimes,' she muttered to herself, 'why we broke up, you sanctimonious little...' But his words were troubling, still, rumbling around her head. _Had_ she just been wanting to give him a warning to not get too involved with Selena, even though she would bet that it _was_ nothing more than harmless flirting? Or had there been a pang at watching him enthusing about the things he loved at someone other than her? 

_It's possible,_ she mused, _that inviting him wasn't the best idea in the world_. If nothing else she was reminded of the accusation Selena had thrown at her months ago, that she had dumped Matt and then treated him like she expected him to be around as her friend when she wanted him, and then disappear into thin air when he was inconveniencing. 

Then the door to the girls' bunkroom swung open and Selena herself marched out, now with more layers to brave the evening air. 'You should know,' she said in a cool, airy voice, 'that those walls block out _very_ little sound.' 

Rose winced guiltily. 'There's nothing I can say to that, is there.' 

'Not really.' Selena tossed a chiffon scarf over her shoulder. 'I'm not actually interested, and anyway, I'm not going _near_ your little... unresolved...ness.' She waved a hand in the direction of the canvas flaps out. 'But don't you deny me my fun, Weasley.' 

'I'm not denying you your fun,' Rose sighed. 'I just worry. About you _both_. After Methuselah -' 

'I should rip out all my hair and forsake all men forever?' She tossed her head and gave a wry laugh that Rose didn't find at all convincing. 'I know what I'm doing, and also you need to totally look to _your_ affairs of the heart before you go romping in mine. Because our boy Doyle might be an uppity little gent who's seeing what he wants to see, but he's not _completely_ blind.' 

Then she sauntered outside, too, leaving Rose sat with a cooling teapot, an empty mug, a while to wait until dinner, and unpleasant prospects to consider about the weeks which lay before them. 

Dinner started as an awkward affair which mercifully relaxed as time went on, mostly thanks to Albus keeping up the cheerful chatter. Scorpius seemed to have calmed down and by the time Matt returned from his walk, not long before Albus was dishing up, he, too, seemed rather less tense. 

They were lucky they had Albus with them, Rose reflected once they were all sat around the crackling campfire, sat on blankets on the grass outside the tent, bathed in the rays of the dying sun at the end of the first day of their trip. Not just because he could brighten everyone's mood with just a grin and a kind word, but he was also the only one of them who could cook worth a damn. 

'So it's, what, open once we get to Venice?' Matt was saying. 'No set plans?' 

'A few options. You want to see Jerusalem, Scorpius wants to go to Casablanca, I want to go to Istanbul,' said Rose, giving Scorpius a piercing look. 

'I'm not going to be bullied or bribed out of this,' he said, turning his nose up. 

'Just because the film's the only Muggle movie you've ever seen!' 

Matt grinned. 'You do know that wasn't actually filmed on-location?' 

Scorpius looked crestfallen. 'Well,' he said. 'We could always have Paris.' 

'I'm _totally_ on board with Paris,' chirped up Selena. 

'True, but the point of going to Venice is because from there we can get any long-distance international Portkey. We can hit Europe on the way _back_ ,' Rose pointed out. 'I admit Istanbul isn't as far away as all that. But what about Cape Town?' 

'Grab a map,' Scorpius suggested, putting his finished bowl down and flopping onto his back on the blanket next to her. 'Throw a dart. We go there.' 

'Odds are good that'll be the middle of the ocean,' Matt said. 

'Then, damn it, we'll swim!' 

Rose gave him a look. 'I do actually have several possible routes, but I couldn't get these two to commit to one and now we have what you two would like to do to take into account as well,' she said, gaze falling on Matt and Selena. 

Selena waved a hand. 'I don't _really_ mind,' she said. 'So long as we're not _always_ in a tent in the middle of nowhere.' 

'Super unhelpfully, the only other place I can think of visiting right now is Rio - my dad spent some time out there and talked about the city - and that's about the one place in the world we _can't_ go,' said Matt wryly. 'I'll bow to popular wisdom.' 

'I'm so glad you're all so decisive,' said Rose archly. 'Istanbul it is. We can work our way east to India, maybe China, Thailand, Japan, then across to the Americas. Then end on Europe. Might as well do a full circuit.' 

'Wow.' Albus' eyes widened. 'That's a whole lot of the world.' 

She smiled. 'It's what we're here for, isn't it?' 

'I have a question,' said Matt. 'How many languages do we have under our belts between us?' 

'Er.' Rose tucked a springy lock of hair behind her ear. 'One and a lot of guide books.' 

‘My French is decent, though my Spanish is rusty,' offered Matt. ‘Those language lessons were a _long_ time ago.' 

'You'd think they'd have translation spells or something,' grumbled Scorpius. 

'Actually, those would be _incredibly_ difficult to make,' Rose said. 'You'd either have to make them essentially a form of Legilimency to actively read the mind of the speaker so you knew what they meant, or you'd need a _very_ complicated and fluid spell which would understand not just precise words, but syntax, grammar, usage -' 

'So basically there's going to have to be a lot of talking loudly, slowly, and pointing,' Scorpius said, and smirked at the disapproving look from Rose this won him. 

Dinner, from there, came a lot easier. Less tension and sniping from Scorpius and, thus, less of the worried fussing from Albus. Selena drifted into disinterest and was the first to turn in, but it was fully dark by then, the night marching on around them. She could see Scorpius giving Albus pointed looks, and while her instinct was to find that annoying, a part of her couldn't help but agree. 

One of the perks of this holiday was supposed to be a spot of privacy away from prying eyes, especially while not under the roof of her parents or her aunt and uncle. 

Albus didn't scuttle off immediately. He made sure they'd cleaned up, he made sure the fire was going to burn itself out perfectly safely. He clattered about and made his pending departure obvious, along with a few covert glances at Matt, who seemed to ignore him. And then, just as he, too, slunk to the tent to head to the boys' bunkroom, Matt looked at Rose and said, 'So, why Istanbul?' 

On some subconscious level, Rose was aware of Scorpius' eyes widening. She wouldn't be much aware of Scorpius on a conscious level until twenty minutes into her diatribe on the magical library and repository of relics in the city, on the vast importance in the wizarding world the city held - because that was about the point Scorpius sighed, got up, and pointedly proclaimed he was going to bed. 

Leaving her, instead of being able to spend the last portion of the evening with some privacy with her boyfriend, sat across the fire with the rather smug form of her ex. Who had probably known damn well that getting her started like that was going to end like this. 

'Yeah,' said Matt, calmly enough, once Scorpius had disappeared off inside. He got to his feet and dusted himself. 'Think I'll turn in, too. G'night.' 

_I'm going,_ Rose decided as she sat on her own in the dark and glowered at trees, _to murder him._

* * 

Badenheim was just as quiet the next morning as it had been the day before, but this suited Albus just fine. He'd woken up at a reasonable time and had still missed Matt getting up and apparently going for another hike about the local area with Selena. This had left just the three of them around the tent and, mindful of his advice to Scorpius the previous day, and having been awake enough to see the look on his friend's face when he'd slouched to bed, Albus had thought it prudent to slip away for a couple of hours. 

So he was a little bitter at Matt and Selena for leaving him behind, but he could appreciate some solitude, could enjoy the village without someone, likely any of his four travel companions, making sarcastic commentary about the place. He could find himself somewhere for a cup of tea or coffee and a heartier breakfast than the toast he'd had up at the tent, and sit and watch the world for a little bit. 

The place he found, in the end, looked like a mixture of a bakery and a tea house, though Matt had mentioned something about the term "tea house" having more connotations and connections with East Asia than Albus suspected had ever reached Badenheim. Either way, he suspected he could get a pastry and something to drink, and so ducked inside and prepared himself for a lot of vague gesticulating. 

Two things struck him the moment he stepped into the low-roofed, stone building, cosy and warm and welcoming. The first was that the middle-aged man at the counter, the only person in there, greeted him in decent English. 

The second was that the smell coming from the fireplace was _definitely_ Floo. 

Albus relaxed. 'Oh,' he said, and smiled at the man. 'I thought this place was entirely Muggle.' 

The proprietor had been giving him the cautious look of someone not yet certain of their assumption, but he returned the smile warmly, gesturing for him to come in and take a seat. 'It is, sir, it is. But I grew up here, and so, now, I live here again. I spotted you arrive yesterday. You are just passing through?' 

'Yes, we'll be gone this afternoon.' Perhaps the morning was not a complete bust if he'd met a local wizard he could actually talk to. 'I was just coming to take a walk around the town.' 

'I see. Tea? Let me make this one on me - it is not often I get wizards who come by Badenheim, thankfully.' The proprietor smiled and bustled about behind the counter. 

Albus raised an eyebrow. 'Thankfully?' he echoed. 

The man grimaced. 'Their business here is not usually so good. I had thought at first you were looking into the men who came a few days ago, but I see now - you are Hogwarts, yes?' 

'Who came by?' 

'I was not sure who they were. But they kept mostly from the village, not open as you and your friend were yesterday. Which is always worrying. And then they went up to the Castle so, of course, I was worried. It is not a place you should go, you know. I sent a message to the _Bundesmagie_ but nothing is back yet. Perhaps it is nothing.' He shrugged as he moved from behind the counter to put a teapot down on the circular wooden table Albus had picked on the teashop floor. 

Albus' brow furrowed. 'What's wrong with the Castle? We're mostly here by mistake, one of my friends spotted the place. We _were_ going to look...' 

The proprietor grimaced. 'You could. I would not. It is best people steer clear of there. I do not know what _is_ there, but I do know what _was_ there. It was, how do you say it - _Thule-Gesellschaft_ , in the war.' 

Albus looked blank. 'Who were they, the people who poked around?' 

'I am not sure. As I said, I sent word. I think they are gone but if you are staying you should steer clear of them, hm? Young people like you, you don't want trouble. Hold on.' The man patted down his pockets before he pulled out a folded photograph. 'I took a picture, sent one with the message to Berlin. If you are leaving soon, no bad thing, but if you see these types, stay clear, yes?' 

And he handed Albus a photo of Prometheus Thane stood on the outskirts of Badenheim.


	6. The Bigger They Are

'So, they're long gone,' said Scorpius as he ducked inside the tent, and accepted the mug of tea Rose offered him. 'Not a _clue_ where they're off to. Honestly, I'd rather not think about it.' 

Rose wrinkled her nose before her expression cleared so abruptly he knew she'd just shoved a thought to one side rather than consider it. 'When did you see _Casablanca_?' 

'What? Oh.' He pulled up the chair around the table next to her. 'Oakes showed us it in fourth year. Thought we needed educating on Muggle culture. That was the first movie we saw, only Bellamy said it was crap and they argued and we didn't watch any more. I'm not going to lie, I'm not really sure what was going _on_ , but I knew I wanted to go to Casablanca.' 

She grinned, her eyes lighting up. 'You're adorable.' 

But the words twisted in his gut, and he put the mug down. Albus had told him to talk, and had given him a pointed look when he'd left the tent, and now they were on their own he had no excuses, really. He had to bring up what was bothering him. Except the only way he could think of starting was to blurt out, 'So you and Doyle got really chatty about Istanbul last night.' 

Her gaze went guarded, and she pulled her hand back. 'Yeah. Uh, it was something we talked about once, seeing the libraries there. Look, I'm sorry if you wanted to talk last night, but you went to bed first -' 

_Because it was getting later and later and you wouldn't_ **_stop_** , said the treacherous thought in his head. 'Oh, no, I guess you two just had lots to catch up with. Seeing as he's probably read, I don't know, fifty books on the topic.' 

Rose got to her feet, expression stiffening. 'I don't want to - you know, you _agreed_ to him coming along -' 

'Because I thought I could convince Selena. I thought she'd come with us so I figured, hey, why start a fight about not wanting to be trapped in a tent for a month with your ex?' 

'You're right. _So_ much better for us to have a fight when it's too late to do something about it. You agreed to this, Scorpius, and so I'm not going to apologise for daring to be friendly with someone we're going to be spending this much time with!' 

'No, I mean, why shouldn't you be friendly? It's not like _you'd_ be bothered if _I_ were spending this time being chatty with Miranda!' Scorpius got to his feet, too, and only then did he realise this was the opposite of how he'd wanted this talk to go. 

'I'd be _confused_ , because she _hurt_ you, while Matty and I are still friends, have been friends all along -' 

'Oh, yeah, good friends, close friends, and, after all, he was the ex who got away, the one you _really_ liked, unlike Hector. Who was just a bit of fun and, probably, your rebound to get over _Doyle_...' 

Rose looked struck at that, and he suspected he'd pointed out something she, herself, had never realised. It gave him no satisfaction. But still her gaze remained tense. 'I'm not going to apologise for this, Scorpius. You had all the time in the world to object, and it's _really_ too late now -' 

'I'm not asking you to apologise,' he said, frustration at his own incompetence in putting this into sensible words bubbling over and, he suspected, making him sound frustrated with _her_. 

'No? Then what _is_ this about?' She took a step forward, eyes blazing. 'What _possible_ reason do you have for complaining at me about talking to Matt other than you wanting me _not_ to!' 

'I don't want you to _not_ talk to him,' said Scorpius, and mostly meant it. 'I _want_ you to be able to talk to _me_ like you talk to _him_!' 

Now she looked confused. 'What?' 

'See? Look - I can't even say _that_ right -' He tossed his hands in the air. 'Bloody hell, Rose, you two spent last night talking all about Istanbul and when you mentioned Constantinople I thought it was an _entirely different place_ for about five minutes, and he witters on about Badenheim's history and you're nodding like it makes sense when it really _doesn't_ to me!' 

Silence fell after his outburst, Rose staring at him in shock - until a nervous giggle escaped her lips, and she lifted her hands to her mouth as if she could cram the sound back. 'Oh, my God,' she said. 'You're - are you mad?' 

He blinked. 'Er, possibly? Why?' 

'You're insecure. You're _actually_ insecure. Like you think you're not smart enough for me.' Then she burst out laughing. 

He straightened and folded his arms across his chest. '...really not helping.' 

Rose did look abashed, though she took a moment to compose herself. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I just - really? You think I'm going to like Matty more than you because we share a couple of interests?' 

'That's a tiny bit of it,' Scorpius admitted. 'The rest is more you'll realise that I'm just some _slacker_ and you're _brilliant_ and -' 

And then he didn't get any further with his confession, because that was when she stepped in and kissed him. It was sudden and he was surprised enough that he didn't have time to do more than lift his hands to her waist before she'd pulled back, fingers curling in his t-shirt. 'You're an idiot,' she said. 

She was smiling, but he still quirked an eyebrow. 'Yes, that's the _point_ -' 

'Not like _that_. Don't make me list your qualities again.' She sighed, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. 'I'm sorry about Matt. Maybe he wasn't my wisest suggestion ever, but I was a bit panicked. I'm sorry he bugs you. But he _is_ my friend, and he _is_ here with us, so the both of us ostracising him strikes me as a way to guarantee this holiday will be _rotten_.' 

He wrinkled his nose. 'I don't really mean _ignore_ him,' he mumbled. 

'I like talking about things with him, but when it's over, _you're_ the one I want to talk about my day with, you're the one who makes me laugh and smile and feel better - and more than that, _you're_ the one who sets me at ease. Who makes me feel good about _me_.' Her gaze softened. 'You're the only one I want to do this with.' Then she was kissing him again, a softer, slower, more languid embrace, and this time he had every chance to snake his hands around her. Except he had to really crane his neck down if he wanted her as close to him as possible, and all of a sudden _that_ wouldn't do - 

She made a small noise of surprise when he moved on an impulse to hoist her into the air and onto the edge of the table, and then they were on a far more even level. He couldn't help but marvel how this, just a simple kiss, just being entangled with her while the rest of the world faded away, felt so infinitely different to how it ever had before with anyone else. And then a thought wormed into his brain and, before he knew it, Scorpius had broken the kiss, letting go of her to brace his hands on the table. 'Why did you laugh when you realised I was insecure?' 

'What?' It took Rose a moment to come back to reality, her breathing deep, cheeks flushed. 'Oh. What?' 

'Are _you_ insecure?' 

'About what?' 

'Me. You. Us. _Girls_.' Pieces were falling into place now, because while Scorpius didn't know books, he knew _people_ , and he knew Rose. 

She looked reluctant in a way which told him he was right. 'Is now really the time to...' 

His hand slid up her arm to come to her chin, tilting her face up to his, and he leaned down to kiss her only lightly, right at the corner of her mouth. 'If I've got nothing to be insecure about,' he murmured, and grazed his lips across her cheek to the corner of her jaw, 'then you definitely don't.' 

'I don't,' she protested, then her voice cut off, barely above a whisper. '...usually...' 

'Because you're brilliant,' he breathed, planting a kiss just under her ear. 'And beautiful. And -' 

'Except when you kiss me like that you know _exactly_ what you need to do to make me melt, when half the time _I_ don't know how to do more than barely...' Her voice trailed off, and he lifted his head, brow furrowed, gaze meeting hers. She winced as they made eye contact, the honesty obviously awkward, and bit her lip. '...not that this is the most diplomatic discussion right now, but Matt and I were more of a... fumbling figuring-things-out, and Hector and I weren't together all _that_ long, really -' 

'I don't care,' said Scorpius firmly, and mostly meant it. He meant it in the good way, anyway; the part of him that did care _liked_ what he was hearing and was, he suspected, some sort of hind-brain, proto-male instinct approving of superiority over other men, and he didn't think listening to it was a good idea. 

'I know, but _I_ do,' said Rose, and her voice was picking up speed now, in that way it did when she was _really_ bothered about something. He realised this issue had probably been cooking in her far longer than he'd realised. 'Because you're, I mean, well, wow, and I'm _not_ , and I really don't want to be an embarrassment, or a _disappointment_ , because it's not like I've got _that_ much clue what I'm doing -’ 

‘Hey.’ His fingertips came to her lips to stop the flow of words and, he feared, crazy. ‘If I’m so amazing I can have any girl, right? And I want _you_.’ His brow furrowed. ‘That sounded better in my head.’ But just as he fought for a way to express himself in a way which _wasn_ _’t_ horrendously insulting or self-aggrandising, Albus threw open the tent flap and marched in. 

Normally, they would have all been embarrassed. But Scorpius was too staggered by his misspeaking, and Rose was too embarrassed by her own babbling, and Albus looked far too distracted to care that he'd just marched in on the two of them still entangled on the dining table. 

'We've got a problem,' said Albus, and the reason he didn't give a damn that he'd just interrupted them became obvious when he showed them the photo of Prometheus Thane.

* *

Matt didn't get up early for any particular reason. The bunk-beds were comfortable enough, but it always took him time to settle in a new place, and so he woke naturally a little after dawn and couldn't drift back off again. The sounds of morning were enough to keep him up: the birdsong drifting through the canvas, the wind rushing through the branches of the nearby forest. Albus' gentle rumbling breathing that was too quiet to be a snore, but loud enough to keep one awake if one wasn't particularly restful.

So he rolled out of the bunk, pulled on his clothes, grabbed his boots, and made for the main living area. 

He blinked with surprise when he saw he was not the only person awake - Selena was sat by the table, lacing up a pair of hefty hiking boots which looked brand new. She started when he appeared and looked up, gaze guilty. 'Oh. Morning.' 

'Morning.' Matt ran a hand through his rumpled hair. 'Sorry. Thought I was the only morning bird.' 

She shrugged. 'I didn't sleep so well.' 

'Me neither.' He looked at her boots, at the sturdy trousers she wore, the jacket. 'Going for a walk?' 

'Oh, I thought I'd just soak up the local area.' The guilt and apprehension faded as she looked at him and gave a sunny smile. 'I know we said we'd explore but it's _so_ nice out there, don't you think?' 

He grinned. 'It's awesome for hiking, yeah. Did you want some company?' 

She pursed her lips, and his heart sank as he spotted the hesitation there. Perhaps coming along on a trip where he received at best her and Albus' polite neutrality, at middle Rose's fluctuation reactions, and at worst Scorpius' outright hostility had not been his wisest move. 

Then Selena smiled again, and his spirits rose. She was good, he thought, at smiling. Not that he'd lied to Rose or anything when he said he wasn't interested, but he was only human, and being smiled at by a pretty girl was nothing to complain about. Especially not when already feeling sorry for himself. 

'Sure,' said Selena. 'You looked around the place more than me, anyway.' 

So they pulled on their boots, he filled up his trusty coffee flask, and they set off while the sun was still new in the sky. There were no clouds above, nothing but dazzling light, but the cold of night had not yet cooked off, and the air smelled crisp, clean, promising. 

'Show me where you went,' she said as they crossed the clearing, 'where you could see the castle. You said it was a great view.' 

'It was,' he agreed, and led her to one of the northern paths, winding its way directly up the slope of the hill in whose shadow they nestled. 'Though it's quite a steep climb.' 

'That's fine,' she said, following in his wake. 'I just want to see it.' 

The way _was_ hard, and so they soon enough fell into silence as they tromped along the narrow but well-worn path that wound through the trees and along the rise. Here and there he stopped to help her scramble up a steeper patch of path, and quickly he slowed his pace to match hers, for she was clearly not accustomed to his kind of exercise. But he knew it would be worth it when they finally staggered their way to the crest of the hill, in between a pair of thick trees that were the last before a steep drop that granted them an unobstructed view of the west, and the local landscape of the Black Forest tumbled down the horizon before them. 

Selena slumped against a tree, breathing heavily, but her eyes still locked on the view. 'Huh.' 

'I know, right?' Matt grinned. 'And, look - the ruins, over there.' He pointed to the right, where indeed the crumbling spires of Badenheim Castle stabbed out from the tree-line. Once they might have pierced the sky but now they were nothing but collapsed finery, ruinous grey in a sea of vibrant green. 

She lifted a hand to shield her eyes against the sun. 'You really think there's something in there?' 

'I don't know,' he admitted. 'It's weird. A castle like this, someplace where wizards cooperated with Muggles in the past - I'm surprised there's not more written about it. It was a really off-hand mention of the place I found. Then again, I've not had more than just what's on my shelf to look at. It was odd, though. Not even a mention of the family name.' 

'Oh, well.' Selena shrugged. 'At worst, cool ruins.' 

'That's what I'm hoping. We'll find out later.' 

She looked at him, and the corner of her mouth twitched as she must have heard the wistful note in his voice. 'Or we could go look now?' 

Matt hesitated. 'Weren't we all going to look?' 

'We were, but _they're_ sleeping. Come on. We can go make sure the path is okay, or something. And maybe save them some time if we go there and it really is just a pile of rocks.' 

'It could take a while,' he pointed out. 

'Then we apparate there and back.' 

He pursed his lips. 'Back, maybe,' he said, finally giving in. 'But not there. The walk's part of the _fun_.' 

'Oh.' Her eyebrow arched as she looked at the path he gestured to, the one leading down by a different way he knew would loop around the sheer drop and take them towards the castle. 'Fun. That's what this is.' 

He set off, grinning over his shoulder at her. 'This was your idea.' 

'What can I say,' she said, stumbling after. 'I just _love_ history.' 

'Really?' 

'Well. Not when it's being taught in a classroom. Binns is _awful_. I don't know how you can want to read it for fun after his lessons.' 

'I got into history before Hogwarts. I don't know why Stubbs hasn't fired Binns yet.' 

'He probably can't. You won't be able to get rid of a tethered ghost so easily, and Binns' spiritual bond to his classroom is strong enough you'd probably need a full exorcism ritual complete with physical reagents from his mortal life and there's no guarantee any of those exist any more.' 

Matt glanced at her. 'You don't say.' He tried to sound polite as she rattled off the information, though knew he came across more bewildered. 

She wrinkled her nose. 'I heard it. Somewhere.' 

Silence fell, and he wasn't sure why. So he just focused on tromping through the pretty forest, enjoying the scenery, and concentrating on making sure they took the right turns, went the right way. He had no desire to give Scorpius the satisfaction of him getting lost. 

His brow furrowed. 'When _did_ Rose and Malfoy get together?' 

She was frowning, too, when he looked over at her, and shook her head. 'Oh, no.' 

'No, what?' 

'I'm not getting into this. This - thing, whatever it is. You three.' 

He glared at the path ahead. 'There's not an us _three_.' 

'You know what I mean. You, and Scorpius and Rose, and _you_ and Rose...' 

'There's _definitely_ not a me and Rose. Not for ages.' 

'But you wish there were.' 

Matt lifted his hands. 'I don't,' he protested, ducking under a low-hanging branch. 'We broke up a year ago, it was a mutual thing, and I got over it. She went out with Flynn and then Malfoy, so either she's over it or she's coping by going out with obnoxious jerks and meat-heads. Either way, it's not a thing. It's just always going to be awkward seeing an ex with their new boyfriend.' 

'Mutual,' Selena mused. 'Do you mean you two sat down and said, "Well, clearly this isn't working, let's see other people", or did _she_ sit _you_ down and say that?' 

He stumbled on a root. 'It wasn't like that. She didn't dump me. We just broke up.' 

'Uh-huh.' 

Matt stopped, turning to her sharply. 'I'm not a fool who got convinced that his dumping was something he wanted. It wasn't working out. We were bickering lots, over stupid stuff. We were better off calling it quits before we ended up hating each other.' 

'Except that she -' Selena stopped herself, then adjusted her hair. 'Fine.' Her nose turned skyward and she continued along the path through the woods. 

'What?' 

'What, what?' 

'You were going to say something.' 

'I always do. I always have _lots_ of things to say,' she said, voice airy. 'Just nobody listens.' 

'I'm listening,' he said, hurrying to catch up with her. 'Except that Rose _what_?' 

'Who said "she" was Rose?' 

'Context, and also because only Rose can inspire someone to enough loyalty to not want to speak badly of her while still noticing her _staggering_ hypocrisies.' 

'Wow.' She arched an eyebrow at him. 'Maybe I _was_ wrong about you still having a thing for her after all. Harsh.' Selena shrugged. 'Rose is my friend. I said I wasn't getting into this. I've said too much, and I'm sure you're right. I don't want this blowing up on this trip. It's _far_ too important.' 

Matt returned the raised eyebrow. 'Important? We're on _holiday_ -' 

Then they heard the roar. 

Selena jumped into him, and he had to grab her shoulders to stop them both from being bowled over by her momentum. He was still gripping tight in shock, though, and as he scanned the tree-line ahead he could spot the crumbled remains of granite walls a way ahead. They had been so caught up in their discussion that they'd not spotted the ruins of Badenheim Castle until they were almost on top of them. 

This, however, was not as worrying as the twelve-foot tall hulking mass of muscle pounding through the trees at them. It was humanoid, wearing little more than furs, its skin a tough hide of calluses and thick hair, its features rounded, bulbous. Its arms were like tree-trunks, its fists like anvils, and with bubbling horror Matt realised exactly what it was. 

Selena yanked herself out of his grip. 'Run!' she shrieked. 

He grabbed her by the elbow. 'Run flat-out from a forest troll in its own home, are you _nuts_? Scatter!' He pushed her left and then darted right, throwing himself over a fallen log to scramble in an arc through the undergrowth, looping around the troll's momentum. 

'And _then_ what?' Selena yelled, scrabbling away as the troll spotted them splitting and came to a long, skidding halt, rounded features furrowing with bewilderment and outrage. 

'Hit it with everything you got!' Matt shouted, drawing his wand. 'It won't want a fair fight - bruise it and it'll run! _Stupefy_!' His spell rocketed across the trees to thud into the troll's hide. To his lack of surprise, the troll merely staggered; a spell which would incapacitate a human was going to need more punch to bring down something of its size and magical nature. 

He did hit, though, and the troll reeled around towards him, opened its mouth, and gave another furious bellow before hurtling in his direction. 

'Well,' Matt muttered as the creature bore down on him. 'That worked.' He hefted his wand and threw another spell, and another, but still the troll didn't falter. He swore under his breath and half-crouched, bracing himself, knowing his best bet was to lunge to the side at the last second when it was too late for the troll’s charge to change course. 

A split second before he leapt, there was a whistling through the air and a storm of debris came crashing down on the back of the troll. Leaves, rocks, twigs; the whole undergrowth was thrown like a wave through the air and impacted with a blow hard enough to make the troll stagger and roar. 

It was also enough of a diversion to let Matt hurl himself away and scramble through the trees, getting a good bit of distance as the troll struggled to keep its footing. He looked at Selena, who stood a distance away with her wand raised, hair wild, the undergrowth before her all but stripped bare by her spell. 'Nice!' he called. 

She didn't smile. 'Trick from an old friend. Now what?' 

'It should -' Matt's blood went cold as the troll staggered, grabbed a hold of the nearest tree, and hauled itself upright before giving another crazed bellow. '...I don't get it! It should have had enough!' 

Selena looked at the troll hurtling through the woods towards her. 'You want to tell him that?' 

'Keep it up!' Matt bellowed, backing off to get some distance between the two of them, all the better to keep the troll's attention split. 'It'll tire before we do, raging like this!' 

_Something has to be setting it off_ , he thought, and set his eyes on a fallen log nearby. That would give it something to think about, and he lifted his wand to start to levitate it. _It_ _’s not normal for a troll to be this aggressive, even near its home. It should be thinking of withdrawing after running into a witch and wizard who know how to handle themselves._

The troll was nearly upon Selena, though, and so Matt gritted his teeth and flicked his wand, sending the fallen log flying through the air to crash into the troll. It was enough to knock it flying with a roar of pain into the next tree, and as Selena darted away he gave a tight smile of satisfaction. Surely _that_ would be enough. 

But as the troll staggered upright, looking more dazed than enraged, Selena tripped. 

' _Shit_ ,' Matt breathed as the troll spotted her, barely out of its reach, and he broke into a blind sprint, hurtling across the distance between them. 'Hey! Over here, you overgrown garden ornament!' He flung spells wildly, thoughtlessly, each of them thudding into the troll's hide before, when he was almost on top of the creature, one sliced through the hide on its left shoulder and drew blood. 

It staggered and roared, and Selena took advantage of its distraction to roll away - then its arm shot out and Matt realised he'd closed the gap more than he should have when the troll's fist grabbed a handful of his coat. 

'Doyle!' Selena shrieked, scrambling for her wand and flinging a Stun at the troll, but to no avail. Matt found himself lifted off his feet even as he struggled, brought up close to the troll's face, and from here he could smell the creature, the stench of its sweat and its waste, far worse than he thought a troll _should_ smell, far more wretched. 

Then it punched him, the blow enough to send him flying back through the air. He hit the ground hard and kept skidding through the undergrowth before he thudded into a tree. His head cracked against the trunk and his vision exploded before his eyes, and with the world dancing and swirling before him, he could only barely make out the blur of the oncoming troll. 

He could hear Selena shouting, though she sounded very far away, and no spells were flying. With a groan, Matt dragged himself to his feet as the troll bore down on him, and knew he was in no condition to dodge it again. Desperately he raised his wand, though everything blurred and it was like he had four hands, and no spell came to mind as he fought through the pain to focus - 

Something else thudded into him from the left, grabbing him and dragging him sideways, and by instinct Matt flailed as he was tackled out of the path of the oncoming troll. The world spun - and made no sense. He couldn’t see his own hands, feet, just the leaves kicking up behind him as he was dragged. And behind him, back by the tree he'd been thrown into, there still stood... 

Himself? 

What the hell was going on? 

Several things happened at once. Whatever firm hands were on him bundled him to the ground, a low voice hissed, 'Don't move,' and the troll reached... whatever was stood where he'd been stood before the tree. The troll raised its fist, bellowed into the air, before punching right _through_ the shape. Its hand thudded into the tree and it gave another howl of pain. 

Then a tree fell on it. 

Matt just lay on the ground for a long moment, gasping for breath, the pain abating and his blurry vision returning to normal. The troll was collapsed, unmoving under the thick trunk of a tree which had been chopped down and dropped on top of it, and there was no sign of whatever it had been trying to pummel into oblivion, the shape that had looked like him. He _could_ see himself now, see his legs stretched out in the undergrowth - and as he looked up, he could see who had grabbed him. 

Scorpius Malfoy was looking at the fallen troll, and punched the air. 'Ha! Sometimes I impress _even myself_.' 

Matt sat up, pressing a hand to the back of his head as he squinted at the fallen tree just as Selena appeared around the side of it - and Albus, and Rose. He groaned. 'What the hell just happened?' 

'I was _awesome_ , that's what.' Scorpius beamed. 'Illusion spell to make the troll think you were still there, while I bundled you out of the way. And Al and Rose, oh, brought down a tree on top of it while it thought it was turning you into jam.' 

'Sure,' said Rose as she hurried over to them. 'Make dropping a tree on a forest troll sound inconsequential.' She looked at Matt. 'Are you okay?' 

'I'll be fine,' he groaned, getting unsteadily to his feet. 'Just battered. Nothing's broken. How come it didn't see you?' He looked at Scorpius. 

Scorpius bundled the shimmery fabric he held in his left hand, before tossing it to Albus. 'Tricks of the trade. Cheers, mate.' He grinned at Albus, who caught the cloak, rolled his eyes, and shoved it in his pack, before Scorpius turned back to Matt. 'Guess I saved your life. You owe me a wizarding debt. That's how this works.' 

'That is not,' Matt grumbled, hand still pressed to his head, 'how it works.' He hesitated, then gave a brisk nod which did hurt a little. 'Still, that was pretty nifty. Thanks. All of you.' 

'We weren't exactly going to leave you to get flattened,' said Rose, frowning still as she looked at him. 

'I was,' said Scorpius. 'Then I thought of something _really cool_.' 

'Always glad to give you a leg up in looking cool, Malfoy. You need all the help you can get,' Matt drawled, then looked across the trees to Selena. 'You okay?' 

She looked pale, dishevelled, but nodded. 'I’ve fought Dementors. This is nothing. But... thanks for the save.' 

'I don't think that's getting back up again,' said Albus, sounding awkward as he crossed the undergrowth to join them. But his expression grew stern as he looked from them to the ruins of Badenheim that lurked not far away in the trees. 'But what were you _doing_ out here?' 

'Going for a walk?' Matt raised an eyebrow at the accusatory tone. 'I know we said we'd come together but I didn't expect _trolls_ \- and this one was pretty mental. It should have scarpered after Selena hit it.' 

Albus ignored him and turned his gaze on Selena. 'No. Seriously,' he said, his voice low and flat. 'Why are we _here_?' 

She folded her arms across her chest. 'I don't know what you're -' 

'It's no coincidence you suggested we come here,' he snapped, shoulders squared. 'Not when Prometheus Thane was in town only _days_ ago!' 

Matt's jaw dropped. 'Wait, what?' 

'I spoke to a wizard in town, they said he'd been in the region and looking into the castle, which was apparently _suspicious_ and so they'd reported this to the authorities in Berlin. He gave me a picture. It's Thane.' 

Scorpius pursed his lips. 'Did the guy actually say what's _wrong_ with the castle, by the way? Why is someone looking at it so bad?' 

'Something's wrong here,' said Matt, focusing on what he _did_ know. He pointed at the troll. 'We hammered that thing and it kept going. It was enraged and it charged us from a long way off. No warning. No territorial posturing. It spotted us and went for us and didn't care that we were going to be a tough meal.' 

Selena finished adjusting her hair and looked to the ruins. 'So let's go take a look at what pissed it off so much.' 

'Are you _crazy_?' Albus stood stiff, brow furrowed. 'We are not tromping off after whatever Prometheus Thane was up to.' 

'So we're just going to go home?' Selena arched an eyebrow. 'And do what?' 

'Report it!' 

'Like your friend in town already _did_ , and _nobody_ came to look?' 

Scorpius grimaced. 'She's got a point, mate. We can't turn around now.' 

'We _can_.' 

Rose moved to Albus' side and put a hand on his elbow. 'Let's take a look, Al. We can handle ourselves.' 

'Exactly.' Then Scorpius fixed his gaze on Selena. 'But we're talking about this _later_.' 

'I'm quaking, Malfoy,' she drawled, before turning on her heel and heading up the slope in the direction of the ruins. 

Matt followed, shoving his hands in his pockets, his skull still thudding painfully. He would be fine, he knew - he'd suffered worse in the last few months of desperately hard work to get physically fit again after how wasted Phlegethon had left him - but the ache was still there. 

Rose dropped back to join him as the five of them tromped towards the ruins, biting her lip. 'Are you sure you're okay?' 

'I'm sure,' he said, then dropped his voice. 'Thanks to you guys. And especially Malfoy.' 

She gave a tight smile. 'That sounded like it hurt to admit.' 

'Not as much as being pummelled by a forest troll would have hurt. Albeit more long-lasting.' He frowned up the hill. 'What're you expecting to find?' 

'I don't know. We'll know it when we find it.' 

'Jesus.' Scorpius' voice from ahead sounded pained. 'Can anyone else _smell_ that?' 

Matt sniffed the air, then regretted it. 'Smells like rotting meat.' 

Selena was still in the front, and she was the first to step around the crumbled wall which blocked their view of the interior of the castle ruins. Then she stopped, lifted her hands to her mouth, and flew back behind the wall, very pale. 

'What?' Albus darted up after her - and froze when he got to where she'd stood and saw what she saw. They all hurried up to join him, hearts in their throats, and so were a little more prepared when they saw the gruesome sight that lay ahead of them. 

But only a little. 

It was the ruined main courtyard of the castle that spread out before them, the ground hard, moss and weeds overrunning the masonry but the area was mostly clear, a broad, open expanse. Which meant they had a decent view of the bodies piled up in the corner, fresh enough to be corpses, old enough to stink to high heaven. 

Matt's stomach churned. 'Trolls,' he said, breathing through his mouth. 'A small tribe. That's, what. Eight of them?' Somehow his mind detached itself from the truth of the slaughtered creatures, from the encrusted blood across their bodies and the masonry, leaving drag marks showing they'd been piled up intentionally, and focused on facts he could process. 

'Oh, _hell_ ,' said Scorpius in a low voice. 'He came here and _slaughtered_ them.' 

'That'll be why the one back there was so maddened,' said Rose. She was clutching Scorpius' arm, Matt could see, knuckles white. 'If it survived this and stuck around, no wonder it attacked anything on sight...' 

Albus swallowed, then pushed forwards into the courtyard, wand raised. 'They're a few days old,' he said, voice thick. 'It matches what I was told in the village. But Prometheus Thane didn't come here to butcher some trolls and go home. He wanted something.' 

'And he wouldn't have been alone,' said Rose. 'One wizard would struggle to take down a troll on their own, even one as good as Thane. He didn't butcher over half a dozen trolls single-handedly.' 

'So there's something here,' said Albus. His brow furrowed. 'The wizard in town, he said something about the castle, said it was... I struggle to remember the word, it was in German. Sounded something like - Tools? Tool-Gesh-shelf? I'm sorry.' He winced. 

Matt shrugged and looked around the masonry, the crumbled stonework. He padded towards the hulking ruin that was the building proper, shrouded in shadows and looking like ceilings and walls had come down and giving precious little of an interior to examine. 

Then he spotted the engraving above the nearest doorway and stiffened. 'Thule,' he said. 

'That's right.' Albus turned to him, brow furrowed. 'What is it?' 

'The Thule Society. The gathering of witches and wizards who served Grindelwald and helped him in his collaboration and empowerment of the Muggles of the era. The ones who _codified_ pure-blooded supremacy.' 

Scorpius arched an eyebrow. 'How do you know?' 

'Because that's Grindelwald's mark there on the door,' said Matt, and pointed to the triangle that encased the circle and the single vertical line carved into the rock. 'And because that makes sense. No wonder there's so little written about this place if it was a holding of the Thule Society's in the war. So many records were destroyed by them, by the Magical Alliance, by the Muggles...' 

'What did the Muggles care?' said Scorpius. 

'You've seen _Casablanca_. They were going through their own war at the time. A similar crisis of - well, lots of things. But also couched in supremacy. Lineage. Bigotry.' Matt wrinkled his nose, the prospect more sickening than the stench from the corpses. 'The Thule Society propped them up, helped them; Grindelwald was going to use them to eventually exert his power over the Muggle world. The Magical Alliance kept them at bay and kept it all hush-hush, and God knows the Muggles didn't need magical help to do horrible things to one another for their own reasons, but...' 

'While this might begin to explain why Thane came here,' said Selena, picking her way away from the decomposing pile of troll corpses, closer to the main body of the ruined castle, 'that doesn't explain it all.' 

Matt shrugged. 'I don't have a clue.' 

'Then let's think logically about this instead of guessing.' That was Rose, who wore a wry, tight smile as she pulled out her wand. 'Let's see what magical signatures we've got in the area.' 

'How is it,' asked Scorpius, brow furrowed, 'that your ideas are brilliant, and yet obvious, and yet _none of us_ thought of them?' 

Her smile broadened but she didn't answer, sweeping her wand across the area as her eyes narrowed in concentration. Matt headed for the marked doorway and stuck his head inside, but he saw nothing but a dark chamber where the ceiling had come down and blocked off any route further inside. 'It's not this way.’ 

'No,' said Rose, and pointed to her right, the opposite side of the courtyard to the slaughtered trolls. 'Over there.' 

Scorpius went as directed, towards the rubble that was heaped up where she'd gestured, but he looked nonplussed. 'It's a pile of rock,' he said. 

'It is,' said Matt, joining him, and pointed at the ground. 'But it's a pile of rock that's been recently moved. That scraping on the stone's reasonably recent, it's fresh and not worn away, look?' 

'I'm definitely getting a sense of magic from this way,' said Rose. 'But _down_.' 

'A passageway?' said Scorpius. 

'Only one way to find out.' That was Albus, striding over to them, and he lifted his wand to begin to tug the heaped up rocks back, away from their bundle. Matt brought out his wand to help keep the process quick and steady, and with all five of them working away, soon they had cleared the pile of rocks to show a small, rounded doorway in the masonry - and the shadows as it led down into the earth. 

'Oh,' said Scorpius in a flat, unhappy voice. 'A creepy underground tunnel in a castle once owned by Grindelwald's men that Prometheus Thane, international magical _bastard_ poked around in a few days ago. What could _possibly_ go wrong?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Thule Society was once a real organisation. They were an occult society in pre-WW2 Germany and many of their members were linked to the Nazi party, though their involvement often gets exaggerated in fiction - which I, too, am doing here! I encourage anyone to read up if they are curious, and also to tell the difference between fact and my made-up rubbish. 
> 
> There is a long and honourable tradition of portraying them as the centrepiece of many ‘Nazis were involved in the occult’ stories, and considering the many implied links between Grindelwald and World War II (the time frame, Nurmengard and Nuremberg, the supremacist ideals), I am playing on that here. In this case, they are being presented as a section of Grindelwald’s followers who were responsible for the occultism rumoured to be at play behind the scenes in WW2, as a part of Grindelwald’s schemes of influencing and controlling Muggles. Though, as stressed, humanity does not need magic in order to be horrific to one another. The ‘Magical Alliance’ is my incredibly original name for a group of wizards opposed to Grindelwald and his followers.


	7. Into Darkness

'This is a cell,' said Scorpius. 'And those are chairs with a lot of dried blood on them.' He felt sick and light-headed as he peered over Albus' shoulder through the doorway. This room was the first they'd come to at the end of a long, dark, dank corridor, though the passageway wound deeper into the earth. 

'Yep.' Albus' hand rested on the handle of the metal door, knuckles white. 'And on the ground.' His voice, too, was cold and distant. 

'Pretty empty, though.' 

'Yep.' The door was closed firmly. 'We'll worry about _that_ ,' he said, 'if we find nothing else.' 

Scorpius turned with relief to the others, then looked at Matt. 'So you read boring history for fun, Doyle,' he said, clutching for normalcy after the troll corpses and what he was horribly afraid was a murder scene. 'What do we expect in a lair of the Tool Society?' 

'Thule,' said Matt, looking irritated. 

'I think mine sounds better.' 

He sighed. 'I know what the symbol is - everyone knows what the symbol is and what it'd mean out here. I know why this place might have dropped off the map; a lot of people tried to deny the history, pretend it hadn't happened, and considering how dangerous the Thule Society were, the Magical Alliance were in favour of this.' 

'So, in short, you don't have a clue. Useful.' Scorpius was nervous, he knew this, and knew that antagonising Matt was an unhelpful way of making himself feel better. He still got elbowed in the ribs by Rose for his troubles. 

Matt was glaring. 'Let's take a look, then. Don't see you volunteering to go first.' 

Albus started as he turned and continued down the corridor. 'Maybe I should go first -' 

'Al, I know you're good, but I _was_ Captain of the Duelling Club,' Matt said, brandishing his wand. 'I know what I'm doing.' 

It was a lie, of course, but Scorpius thought it bad form to pick on that when _none_ of them knew what they were doing, so they hurried in Matt's wake. The corridor stretched down into a darkness the _Lumos_ spells from their wands could not break through wholly, and when they entered the long, rectangular chamber, it was as if the larger room had suddenly sprung out on them. 

It was less a hall than an expansion of the corridor, four metres wide and stretching forwards a long way. At the far wall was an open arch leading to darkness, the masonry around the doorway carved with intricate markings Scorpius couldn't make out from this distance. 

'Bet you that's magic,' he said helpfully. 

'Awesome powers of deduction, Malfoy,' said Matt. 'Top of the class.' He lifted his wand and muttered under his breath, and lights detached themselves from the tip of the wand to flutter down the passageway. They found sconces on the wall and these burst into life, the magical flame casting eerie blue flickering across everything - but they could see. 

The ancient masonry was smoother down here, far less damaged and more dry. It was not without the ravages of age, though, for of the dozen suits of armour that stood lining the walls down to the far end, only three had not been crushed, or toppled, or wrecked so badly as to look like maimed mannequins by time or collapsed stonework. To the left of the far door hung a sword on a rack on the wall; on the right, there were only the brackets where one might have hung, and shattered metal on the floor below. 

Rose stepped up next to Matt, eyes wide. 'Is _this_ the Thule Society's?' Her voice was hushed. 

'Possibly,' he said. 'It's not like their respect for the old ways, for ancient history, wasn't infamous. I don't know what this place is, though.' 

'Still reckon that door's magic,' muttered Scorpius. 

Matt gave him an irritated look over his shoulder. 'Then Rose and I will take a look and make sure it's not going to hurt you, hey, Malfoy?' 

His expression pinched. 'Do try to not walk _through_ it without checking.' 

Albus clasped his shoulder as Rose and Matt made their cautious way down the corridor to the far end. 'Easy, mate. Now's not the time for this.' 

'Should have let the troll get him,' Scorpius muttered. He looked at Selena, who had been silent for a while, expression set with that gaze of determined disinterest he had realised was a well-studied look. He shook his head and ambled further down the corridor, peering at the suits of armour with their intricate metalwork and their Greek cross emblazoned on the breastplate, the tint of red faded from time. 'Why do wizards _keep_ these things around, anyway?' 

'To look ominous and pretentious, I guess,' said Selena, looking down the passageway towards the door Matt and Rose approached. 'Does he know what he's doing?' 

'No,' said Scorpius. 'But she does.' 

Selena's nose wrinkled. 'Fair point.' 

He turned to her, irritation bubbling. 'I thought he was your new favourite, anyway, the one you dragged out here oh-so-coincidentally. The latest diversion.' 

Something flashed in her eyes - then she sniffed, tossed her hair, and was calm, superior Selena again. 'You never were as smart as you thought you were, Scorpius.' 

'All right,' said Albus, lips thinning. 'That's enough, let's join them.' They turned to the far end - just as Rose and Matt reached the large paving slab directly before the door, and Scorpius' bet that the archway was magical proved, if not wrong, then not the most pressing magical presence. Because the paving slab definitely was. 

There was a rumbling of stone from above before a dazzling blue light shone down from a gap in the masonry, a perfect circle that engulfed the whole paving slab - and Matt and Rose. Scorpius could only see their silhouetted forms through the glare, and his heart leapt into his throat. 

He was moving without thinking, lunging forwards, before Albus grabbed him by the collar, grip tight. 'Don't _touch_ anything,' he hissed. 'Not before we know what -' 

Then a voice boomed from all around them, deep, guttural - and speaking, so far as Scorpius could tell in his frantic state, absolute gibberish. 

Matt, bathed in light, squinted upwards. 'It's German,' he said, voice echoing down the passageway to reach them. 

'What're they saying?' Rose sounded taut. 

'I don't know, I don't _speak_ German -' 

'Are you okay?' called Scorpius, shaking off Albus' hand but not moving. '...both of you?' 

'We're fine, I _feel_ fine anyway, I can move, I just... don't know what this is.' Rose lifted her wand cautiously, and there was a moment's silence as she worked. 'It's some sort of, er... analysis spell, but I _think_ I can interface with it and make that voice talk English...' 

'Oh, good,' said Scorpius, fists clenched at his side. 'Comprehensible death threats.' 

Then the German voice, male and deep, started again - and mid-way through shifted to English, as if without missing a beat. 

' _-firm lineage two generations past_.' 

Matt's nose wrinkled. 'Confirm lineage two generations back?' he asked, looking upwards. 

' _Identify name and family, and confirm lineage two generations past_ ,' came the voice, echoing down the corridor. 

Scorpius took a few slow steps forward, and Albus and Selena kept cautious pace with him - to keep together and, he suspected, to make sure he didn't do anything stupid. 'Can you step out of that light?' he asked. 

'I _can_ ,' said Rose, wand still lifted. 'I'm detecting some sort of... well, sensor for that, though. It'll make _something_ happen if we just step off.' 

'Fine.' Matt squared his shoulders, gaze still lifted. 'My name is Matthias Doyle, son of Gabriel Doyle and Jennifer Riley, grandson of Abidan Doyle, Isobel Maudsley, Andrew Riley, and Leanne Hustings.' 

The light shimmered, and Scorpius tensed before the voice came again. ' _Lineage confirmed. Pure heritage accepted_.' 

And everyone stared at Rose, whose lips pursed. 'Well, bugger.' 

'Make something up,' Scorpius hissed. 

'There's _definitely_ a detection element to this, I don't think it's just about my _say-so_.' 

'What'll happen if you just say, " _Hi, half-blood here,_ so _sorry for invading your spooky lair of bigotry_ "?' said Selena. 

'I don't know. And I don't know what'll happen if I step off. It might just deny me access further in.’ 

' _Final opportunity_ ,' came the voice. ' _Identify name and family, and confirm lineage two generations past_.' 

'There's no sort of... I'm not detecting any hanging spells to _do_ anything to me while on this spot,' said Rose, and drew a deep breath. 'Fuck it. Rose Weasley, daughter of Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, granddaughter of Arthur Weasley, Molly Prewett, John Granger, and Abigail, er, Wright, I think.' 

'Yeah, it's _super important_ you get the _Muggle_ grandmother's name right,' Scorpius muttered. Fear was bubbling in his gut, and his grip on his wand was iron-tight. 

The light shimmered. Faded. And, for a long moment as Matt and Rose gaped around them, nothing happened. Until the voice came again. ' _Lineage confirmed. Tainted heritage... rejected. Commencing purge_.' 

'Oh,' said Matt. 'That's not a good word.' 

Then the sound of metal scraping on stone filled the passageway as the suits of armour began to yank themselves to life. 

There were, as Scorpius had observed earlier, only three that were intact. One was near the door they'd come through, and marched from its resting place to block the way out, both gauntlets clutching the haft of its halberd. At the other end, near to Matt and Rose, another suit of armour, empty-handed, hobbled out, its sabatons twisted enough that its gait was awkward, lurching. And, right in front of Scorpius as he looked around, a third stepped out from behind Albus to swing a sword directly at his skull. 

He screamed a warning, but Albus was already moving and the wind whistled as the suit of armour's blade sang through the space he'd occupied a heartbeat ago. And still the scraping sound continued - these three suits of armour might have been the only ones intact, but all around the passageway metal boots rattled, gauntlets dragged themselves across stone, and thudding came from under piles of fallen masonry. 

The decorations were alive, and trying to kill them. 

Scorpius' wand was up the moment Albus was out of the way, and he shot a blasting curse at the breastplate of the suit of armour that had tried to mince him. It thudded into the metal, the impact enough to rip the plating away completely, and Scorpius grinned with satisfaction - 

\- until he saw the carved stone torso underneath the breastplate, and that the suit of armour was not in the least bit impeded by losing a little metal. 

The suit by the door, the one with the halberd, was still not moving, keeping its guarding position. The mangled one at the far end still limped at Matt and Rose, but the one with the sword lunged for Scorpius with a warrior's grace, and only by flailing back desperately did the blade meet only air. 'What the hell is that? What _is_ it?' 

'Oh, _shit_.' That was Matt. 'They're not transfigured, they're   
_golems_ \- magical constructs, they -' 

Albus lashed out a spell at the exposed chest of the golem trying to turn Scorpius into a kebab, and shock turned to sheer horror as the magic impacted - then rippled across the stone torso and dissipated into nothing. 

'...and are basically magic-resistant,' Matt finished. 

'Oh! Good!' Scorpius snarled. 'So what do we do?' 

Albus snapped his wand out to the side. 'This!’ He dragged a lump of masonry the size of his skull through the air to thud into the sword-wielding golem's back. Cracks splintered across the stonework of its magically-constructed form and the golem staggered - but remained upright, and whirled around to face Albus. 

'Guess they're not immune to rock,' Scorpius observed. 

'Target the arms and legs, they'll be more vulnerable!' said Albus, ducking under a flashing blade. 

'Behind you!' That was Selena, and Albus whirled around to see the golem who'd been guarding the door decide to intervene, perhaps now they'd figured out how to hurt them. The halberd feinted high - then its haft swung low, and Albus' legs were swept out from under him, knocking him to the stone floor. 

'Shit.' Scorpius backed off and stuck his wand up, yanking a chunk of masonry from the ceiling free and bringing it crashing down on the head of the sword-wielding golem, which had also been bearing down on Albus. The helmet was cracked off and the golem whirled around to show its features - a sloping, curved face, like someone had started sculpting a human out of clay but not got further than the basic features. There were markings on its forehead, but it wasn't those which drew Scorpius' attention - it was the eyes, which blazed a dark, fierce red. 

It opened its facsimile of a mouth, which seemed to have been bewilderingly stuffed with a roll of paper, and the noise which came out was like the angry roar of a steam train. 

'Same to you, mate,' said Scorpius, and flicked his wand as he stepped sharply to his right. The air shimmered to the left of him and then he was joined by two shapes about his size, blurry and indistinct illusions of himself, the like of which he'd placed over Matt in the face of the forest troll. He'd not used this technique much before - the magic was unpractised, the illusions obviously not real, not precise enough, but it had been enough against a raging forest troll and he hoped it would be enough against a dumb golem. 

Over the golem's shoulder he could see Selena sending a lump of fallen masonry skidding along the ground to knock the one stood over Albus to the ground. Albus was rolling away from the tumbling halberd, getting to his feet, and reaching with his wand for more rocks. Down the other end of the hallway Rose flung discarded chunks of armour of the golems to whom time had not been so kind at the maimed one limping at her, ducking and backing off every time it got close enough to swing a closed gauntlet at her skull, and Matt was - 

_Is he cowering in the corner?_ Shock rang through Scorpius, but he didn't have long to reflect on this as the golem before him seemed to take stock of the three targeting options before it - and went straight for him. Either it was lucky or the illusion hadn't worked, because Scorpius was forced to throw himself back from the swinging blade. 

But he was closer to the wall than he'd thought, and his back slammed into the masonry, making his dodge not enough - and the tip of the golem's blade, fiercely sharp, sliced across his left thigh. For a split second he couldn't feel anything - then blood welled up, and searing agony with it, and without shame, Scorpius screamed. 

The golem kept coming, though, and desperately he lashed out with his wand. Despite the pain there was a rush of clarity born of the burning desire to _live_ , and so instead of focusing a spell at the golem he blasted as much power as he could at the hilt of the sword bearing down on him. 

There was the sound of shattering metal as the cross-guard broke and, with it, the blade was sundered clean off the hilt. The golem stopped at this, staring for a moment at its ruined weapon, and Scorpius - despite the pain - gave a smug, languid grin. 

'What're you going to do now, huh?' 

The golem seemed to think about this for a moment. Then grabbed him by the throat. 

Black spots surged before Scorpius' eyes as he was slammed against the wall again, air knocked out of him and throat too tightly squeezed by impossible strength for him to take another breath. He flailed, free hand latching onto the golem's wrist to tug without success, wand coming up - and the golem's free hand batted his wand away, knocking it from his grasp. 

His vision blurred, both hands clutched uselessly at the arm pinning him, and the yelling of the others became distant, detached, irrelevant - everything became irrelevant, really, and the choking was an awful lot more like _floating_ \- 

Then there was an almighty crash and the pressure around his neck loosened. Scorpius collapsed, still gripping the wrist of the golem as he fell to the ground, and as burning air rushed into desperately grateful lungs, he only distantly realised it was odd he was still holding the golem's hand while the creature stood over him. 

The golem made that roaring noise again, reeling around to face whatever had struck it, whoever had severed its arm from its body. Scorpius blinked up at the shape of what he assumed was Albus, who swung a hefty club right at the golem's chest, knocking the creature staggering backwards. 

But as Albus' coat flapped around him, Scorpius realised the shape was too small to be Albus, and the air in his lungs tasted more bitter at the dawning truth that he'd just been saved by Matthias Doyle. Matthias Doyle wielding not a stick, but a _sword_ , no less. 

He was really starting to hate that guy. 

Then a shadow blocked out the flickering blue lights from the sconces as Rose appeared over him, face pale, worried. 'He's still conscious.' 

'I'm okay,' he rasped, or tried to, still feeling weak, light-headed. 

But Rose didn't answer, and as he saw her scrabble for her bag he could see her hands were covered in blood - then she gave up and tossed the bag to the side. With the world swimming above Scorpius, he could see Albus also standing over him as his friend caught the bag. 'Essence of Dittany,' said Rose, 'it's in there, find it - Scorp, listen to me -' 

Her hair was shimmering in the blue light which cast it in an odd hue, ethereal, transcending the pain and aches of the moment. 'You're really pretty,' he said, the thought striking him as terribly important. 'I don't say that enough...' 

'Oh, thank God,' said Rose, which he thought was a bit much - he _obviously_ didn't say it enough if she was _that_ pleased. 'It missed the artery, it's not _that_ bad...' 

'No, seriously,' Scorpius slurred. 'You're all, like, " _I know what to do_ ", then, " _bang, success_!" and that's really hot -' 

Then she muttered a healing spell and the dull pain in his left thigh turned into a livid fire of agony. He screamed again. 

By the time the echo had died down, so had the worst of the pain, and Scorpius lay there drawing ragged breaths as reality rushed back in. Now he could think more clearly, breathe more easily, could feel Rose stroking his hair and see the concerned faces of the others over him. 

He closed his eyes, inhaled unsteadily, and tried to sound normal. 'What happened?' 

'We tripped a Thule Society - probably - defence when it realised I'm not a pure-blood,' said Rose, voice gentle, worried. 'It activated the golems and set them on us.' 

'We were lucky only three of them were still in one piece,' said Albus, stood a short distance away with his arms folded across his chest. 'That was hard enough. We'd have stood no chance against a full dozen.' 

'Is everyone okay?' croaked Scorpius. 

'Yeah,' said Rose, corners of her eyes crinkling as she gave a worried smile. 'We're fine. You got slashed, it looked worse than it was. I've patched you up, you just take a moment.' 

'No worries there. How'd you _beat_ them?' 

'Strong resistance to magic doesn't mean they can't be pummelled into pieces,' said Albus, voice tight. 'We paggered ours with rocks.' 

'So why does Doyle have a sword?' 

Rose looked over her shoulder. 'Good question.' 

From the sounds of it, Matt had been dispatching the errant crawling gauntlets, and after a few seconds he came padding back over. He did, indeed, have a sword in his hand, the blade some three feet long. 'I assume you saw the insignia on the breastplates,' he said. 

Scorpius gritted his teeth and fought to sit up, aided by the willing hand of Rose, who seemed reluctant to move from his side any time soon. 'Let's say I wasn't studying the armour.' 

'The colouring was faded on some of them but it's definitely a red cross. I didn't think much of it until they moved, and then I noticed the same red cross on the hilt of this sword on the wall.' Matt adjusted the grip to display the pommel, and indeed the rounded metal was emblazoned with a red cross. 'When I was trying to figure out for sure if they were golems when they kicked off, I realised this was also magical.' 

'So use a magic sword against constructs which resist magic? Smart,' Scorpius croaked. 

'You don't understand,' said Matt. 'It _disrupts_ magic. That's why it could chop through the golems. It broke the enchantments on them as well as hacking its way through, rendering them inert.' 

'Why,' said Albus flatly, 'would they leave a sword which can hurt their guard-golems on the wall right there?' 

'Well, there were some serious wards around it; if all twelve golems had been active I wouldn't have had the luxury of letting Rose hold them off while I punched through the protections. _I'm_ more curious what the Thule Society were doing with old Templar relics.' 

Scorpius rubbed his head. 'I've missed something here.' 

'Me too,' said Selena. 'Because none of this is getting to the bottom of what Thane was doing here.' 

'He's a pure-blood,' said Scorpius. 'He could have got past this without fuss. Maybe we should see what these were defences _to_.' 

'Maybe _we_ should,' said Rose, hand still on his arm. 'You've been choked and stabbed -' 

'Slashed, technically.' He managed a wan smile and squeezed her hand. 'I'm okay. You do good work. But this is about _Thane_. I want to see this.' 

'I've got him,' said Albus, moving to his side, and leaned down to all but haul Scorpius to his feet, one arm slung around him, and it became very easy to hobble when he had the huge strength of his best friend supporting him. 

Scorpius, nevertheless, looked to Matt. 'So you chopped the golem's arm off with a magic sword.' 

Matt gave him a guarded look, then nodded. 'It worked on the other one.' He jerked his head towards the far passageway, where the maimed golem lay in a crumbled heap, a more respectable bundle than the one which had guarded the door they'd come through - which lay twitching under a heavy pile of rubble. 

'Well.' Scorpius pursed his lips. 'Guess that makes us even. No wizarding debt. And this time I got to be charitable and make _you_ look cool.' 

Matt's lips twitched. 'Guess so.' 

Rose eyeballed Matt critically. 'Do you even know how to use a sword?' 

'No,' he admitted, and turned to the far passageway. 'But I know how to hit something magical with a magic-disrupting weapon. And it worked, didn't it?' He headed down the corridor, the others following him in a bundle of Albus helping Scorpius limp and Rose worrying alongside them, Selena prowling at the rear. 

When Matt stepped onto the large paving stone that had set this all off, nothing happened. When Rose, Albus and Scorpius did, the blue light shone down again, and once more came the voice. ' _Identify name and family, and confirm lineage two generations past_.' 

Scorpius rolled his eyes. 'Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, son of go _fuck_ yourself, you ran out of golems.' Then, with Albus' help, he limped off the paving slab towards the archway, and the blue light died. 

' _Lineage confirmation aborted. Commencing purge_ ,' came the voice, but this time absolutely nothing happened. 

'So I guess we were a bit damned the moment I stepped on that thing,' said Rose, and looked to the archway. She squinted at the engravings across the masonry, wand in hand. 'That doesn't look magical.' 

'It's just writing, I think,' said Matt. 'Looks German. " _Was ihr seid, das waren wir._ "' 

'Which means?' asked Scorpius. 

'I have no idea.' 

'Oh!' Rose pulled her bag off Albus and began scrabbling around in it. 'Phrase book here...' 

'This is the most magical deciphering in the history of ever,' drawled Selena, and lifted her wand, muttering. 'That door isn't actually magic,' she said. 'It's just an archway with pretentious foreign writing.' 

Rose gave her a look. 'It's not _pretentious_ if it's written in German in _Germany_.' 

'We should also _really_ make sure -' 

But Matt stopped as Selena shrugged and stepped through the doorway into the gloom. And absolutely nothing happened. 

She looked over her shoulder and gave them the look of arch superiority she usually reserved for if someone wore _that_ jacket with _that_ top. 'There comes a point where you're fussing for the sake of it. If there was something down here, it would have come out when the golems -' 

Then the darkness behind her evaporated as sconces around the stone chamber burst to life with blue flames. They all jumped, there was a general shout of surprise, and Selena squeaked and dived back through the door, grabbing at Albus' free arm. 

The chamber through the archway was large and rounded, the ceiling low, the masonry sturdy. All around the wall had been set sturdy doorways which were once sealed with hulking secure doors that reminded Scorpius of the vaults of Gringotts - except they were all open, showing gloomy, small, bare stone rooms beyond. And the main chamber was empty. 

Selena drew a hissing breath. 'Not funny, Doyle.' 

Matt's voice sounded tense. 'That wasn't me.' 

'Then what,' muttered Scorpius, 'turned the lights the hell on?’ 

Rose inhaled sharply. 'I've figured out the inscription. It says: _"We were what you are, what we are you shall be."_ ' 

'Ominous. And vague,' said Albus. 

'Oh, this is still silly,' said Selena, and stepped back through the door. 'Hello?' 

'Are you going to keep on doing stupid things,' asked Scorpius, eyebrows raising, 'and then freak out when something bad happens?' 

'You can go home if you want, Scorp, but Thane was here for a -' 

' _Thane_.' 

The voice was not the same as the one which had come from the detection spell before the door. This one echoed within the chamber, harsh and rasping, rattling from one of the vaults. It conjured the image of chains dragging on rock, of sandpaper on an open wound, of grinding bones. But this time Selena stood her ground as a shape shimmered from out of one of the vaults into view. He was a middle-aged men, wearing robes of a fashion almost a century old, severe of feature and stern of bearing. To call him "pasty" would be a bad joke. 

Matt drew a hissing breath. 'A ghost,' he muttered. 

'Yes, _thank_ you, Doyle, I couldn't have guessed from the whole transparency thing,' said Selena, then fixed her gaze on the man. 'Prometheus Thane was here?' 

'That was his name,' said the ghost. His grating voice was accented, though the tones were still lyrical despite the harshness, measured, educated. 'He came with the impure to our holding and thought he could take what he willed.' 

Albus shuffled forward, and Scorpius had no choice but to shuffle with him. 'Who are you?' 

'Kerner. A martyr of Grindelwald. The loyal. The waiting. The lost.' 

'What _is_ this place?' That was Matt, gaze sweeping across the chamber. 

'My home,' said the ghost of Kerner. 'And with the blessing and aid of my brothers, one of the Thule Society's most treasured repositories of wealth and power. Gathered from across the world to strengthen our empire.' 

'Your empire _fell_ ,' pointed out Scorpius. 

'Also, using golem magic?' Matt wrinkled his nose. 'Considering how closely you worked with the Muggles, isn't that a _little_ hypocritical?' 

'Insulting him doesn't get us answers,' whispered Selena. 'Why was Thane here?' 

'Guided here,' said Kerner, and his pallid features twisted. 'Led here by one of our own. One who did not stand loyal. Who hid for a hundred years. Once a brother of the society, who survived like a rat and now professes to be returning to our great master's work -' 

'Who?' Selena said. 

Kerner tensed. 'Raskoph. _Colonel_ , as he still calls himself, though no armies know him, though it was a title given him by _lesser_ creatures...' 

'Lesser creatures...' Matt's expression twisted in thought. 'Muggles. Thane's working with a member of the Thule Society who was also a Colonel in the Muggle -' He stopped and goggled. 'Prometheus Thane is _actually_ working with a _Nazi_.' 

'It's like murdering schoolchildren wasn't evil enough,' Rose muttered. 

'Raskoph led Thane and his ilk here,' said Kerner. 'And said the riches were theirs. As if he still held claim to the treasures of the Thule Society when we died for our Master, and he hid and lied and denied the cause.' 

'Did you die here?' said Albus. 

'Hunted here. Your English wizards, the Alliance. Drove me to my home and cut me down as if it were justice. But they did not find this place, and it was my duty to rest _here_. Time and tides have revealed the repository, though.' 

'What did Thane _take_?' pressed Selena. 

'Everything,' said Kerner. 'My fellows and I scoured Europe for its riches. Took what the weak could not hold, the treasures of their ancients. The Staff of Gwydion, the skull of Atlantes, records of the Oracles of Delphi - and yet it was not enough.' 

'He wanted something else?' said Albus. 'Something specific?' 

'Something we did not have. Something that eluded us.' Kerner scowled. 'We raided the Templar's lairs in Paris. We found their shattered relics, we found their Judaic guardians. But the prize was not there. Thane thought we had found it. Disappointing him is the only satisfaction taken from the desecration of my home.' 

'What did he want?' asked Selena, nose wrinkling. 

'What do all such men want? Mastery of life and death. The Chalice of Emrys.' 

Scorpius actually laughed. 'Ah, yes, mythical objects are always worth a good chase.' 

Rose leaned in to him. 'The Resurrection Stone was considered a myth until not all that long ago,' she said, which shut him up. 

Matt frowned at Kerner. 'The _Templars_ had the Chalice of Emrys?' 

'So we thought. It had been theirs in the Crusades and then returned to Europe, undiscovered by the Papacy as they tore them asunder. When the Muggles took Paris, we dug for their holdings and found the treasures they tried to keep for themselves in their greed. All except the Chalice. No doubt spirited away by those lingering loyalists.' 

'Why did Thane and this Raskoph want it?' said Selena. 

'Why would any man want to bridge the river between life and death?' said Kerner. 'They told me not their designs. They ransacked the place, they even turned their fury on their prisoner.’ 

‘Prisoner?’ 

‘An old man. The Professor, they called him. He suffered. Long did he suffer. And he died, though not before he did, in the end, talk. I could have told them - but they ignored me, and I was not of a mind to give them answers.’ 

She cocked her head. 'You gave _us_ answers.' 

Kerner's ghostly visage twisted into a thin smile. 'You are no friend of Thane's. That much is plain. What is your name, girl?' 

'Selena.' Her chin tilted up a half-inch, defiant. 'Selena Rourke.' 

'Rourke. I fought a Rourke once, an Alliance Wizard. Alexander.' 

'My great-grandfather.' 

'I see. And when you find this Thane. What will you do, _Fr_ _äulein_ Rourke?' 

There was no hesitation in Selena's voice when she answered, and to Scorpius it was as if the temperature in the room dropped. 'Oh, I'm going to kill him.' 

Kerner's thin smile expanded. ‘Their Professor told them of my brethren’s hunt through Paris for the Chalice, before he died. He had been wily, suspected my brethren did not find it and bring it to Badenheim, but let Raskoph and Thane and their people run around here to no avail. Still in the end he gave them knowledge of Paris, and so that is where they have gone. To hunt the Templar secrets, to presume that they can find what the Thule Society could not.' 

Albus narrowed his eyes. 'Why do you care?' 

Kerner turned, sweeping back towards the vault he'd come from. 'I cannot guard anything but the memories of my Master and our cause, not any more. So I shall settle for the satisfaction of vengeance on the traitor and those who aid him.' The ghost paused in the hefty open doorway, then looked over his shoulder. 'Beware Raskoph. I know not what made him show his face after eighty years of silence. He was one of our best, and he will have his reasons for acting.' He gave them a stiff nod. 'For the greater good.' 

Then he was gone, and with his disappearance, so died the light from the sconces on the walls, setting the with darkness before them and the flickering illumination of the passageway behind. 

Albus was the first to speak, his arm around Scorpius still secure, his voice tense. 'Let's get back,' he said. 'And then we can make sense of this.'

* * 

Scorpius remained standing once they’d ducked back into the tent, and Rose winced as she saw him limping from his leg injury. She went to tell him to sit down and rest, especially as their joint-apparition from Badenheim Castle had not been the smoothest in the world, but before she could open her mouth he had whirled around to face Selena. 

'Right,' he snapped. 'What the _hell_ are you doing?' 

She flinched - and then squared up, and the wave of tension that hit her, Matt, and Albus was enough to push them all to the sidelines as Selena and Scorpius faced off against one another. 'What, exactly, are you -' 

' _You_ told us to go here!' Scorpius tossed his hands in the air. 'You said we should come to Badenheim in the first place, made up some pretence about a festival, and it just _happened_ to be where Prometheus Thane and his new buddies were digging around? That's _not_ a coincidence! How did you know?' 

Selena's eyes flashed. 'Because I looked. Because I paid attention, while you were satisfied to sit at home or romp across the world and let him go _completely_ unchecked. All of you were!' Her gaze swept to Rose and Albus, before she reached for her bag, pulled out a folder, and tossed it on the table. 

'This,' she said, 'is the official report from the International Convocation on the movements of Prometheus Thane, gathered from law enforcement bodies across the world and, yes, stolen from my mother's office. It details how Prometheus Thane is suspected in the abduction of a world-renowned expert on magical history and relics from Copenhagen, and how soon after the German law enforcement received information which placed him at Badenheim. Do you know how many people were sent after him? By Germany, by Britain, by anyone?' 

They all said nothing, even if the answer was plain enough, and Selena pressed on. 'None. Not a _single_ Auror or Enforcer was sent after him. Because he travelled across borders, because for _some_ reason nobody in the Convocation can agree on the terms and powers of an international task force to hunt him, or because too many countries won't accept an Auror or Enforcer from a foreign government operating in their territory. So he abducted a man, and his assistant. He came here. And then he disappeared, and nobody did anything about it. This is the man who infected Hogwarts, and nobody is _doing anything_ about it!' 

Scorpius hesitated, and Rose hoped he'd stand down - then his expression twisted. 'But you _lied_ to us. You tricked us. You dragged us out here to face danger because of him _again_ -' 

'Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission,' said Selena, hands on her hips. 'I knew you'd say no if I asked you in Britain to come hunt Prometheus Thane; I knew that if a lead on Prometheus Thane was in front of you, you wouldn't turn it down. And we _have_ a lead, so we can _get_ him -' 

'What the hell is this?' demanded Scorpius. 'You run around for months like _nothing happened_ , and now you want justice? Why? Must be because Phlegethon meant you missed out on the spring fashion season, because from the way you've been acting it sure as hell isn't about Methu-' 

Rose winced, and wasn't surprised Scorpius didn't get through Methuselah's name before Selena slapped him. His head was whipped to the side and the sound of the impact was like a gunshot, casting them all into silence. 

When Selena drew her hand back, her chest was heaving, eyes livid. 'You think you have the monopoly on grieving over Methuselah because you were the last one to see him alive,' she said to Scorpius. It wasn't a question. 'What did you think, Scorpius, that first morning after it was over? You thought about how he'd died for us all? I bet you did. What did you _do_ after you thought that?' 

Scorpius had his hand to his cheek, obviously more stunned by the realisation of how wrong he'd been than by the blow itself. He didn't answer. 

'Did you get up and go have breakfast? Did you go spend time with your friends? Did you go see your girlfriend? Did you cry for him and then did your life, in fact, go on?' She took a step forward, and her voice dropped to a harsh whisper that nevertheless filled the room. 'Mine didn't. 

' _You_ never thought much of him until he died. You put up with him, sure, and sometimes found his eccentricities amusing, and appreciated his intelligence. But you didn't _hugely_ care for him. When he died, you were sad, but he didn't leave a hole in your life when he was gone. For you, it was more about that you lived while he died. That would have affected you if it were _anyone_.' 

Her expression screwed up, her fists clenched, and Rose could see the raging battle inside her between fury and grief surging upwards. For the moment, fury still won. 'He wasn't _anyone_ to me. He was mine. I loved him. He got under my skin and in my bones and with him gone I am nothing, I _have_ nothing. Do you think the morning after I went on with my life? Do you think I did _anything_ for the first week but crawl into a hole and wait to _die_?' 

Her voice shook at last, and now Scorpius took a step back, as if shoved by her surging grief. But still she didn't stop. 'And then I _didn't_ die. It was like my heart had been ripped out and thrown into hell and _I - didn't - die_. I was still here. And he wasn't.' Her voice was tumbling and breaking now, but still she carried on. 'So what was I supposed to do? Rage at the world? Curl up in a corner and weep? I did that. I did that for weeks. And it changed _nothing_. But would that have satisfied you, Scorpius? Would that have been an _acceptable_ form of grief?' 

Finally Scorpius spoke, jaw dropping. 'That's not what I -' 

'I did what I did,' she said, tears by now streaming down her face, 'because it was that or _break_. I clung to the world where he had never mattered to me because if I could pretend, just for a moment, like I'd never known him, it was enough to get through the day. If I could be the person who never needed him, I could cope - because if I was the person who needed him, he's _not here_ , he's _never_ going to be here!' Anger returned even as her voice choked, and she took a sharp step forward, jabbing her finger in Scorpius' chest. 'But you want me to be open about how he's gone and how that hurts me, _breaks_ me? This is it! Because there is only _one_ thing I can do, and that is make _every_ person responsible for his death pay. It won't bring him back but if their suffering soothes mine even for a _second_ , then yes, I will lie to you all, I will trick you all, and I will chase Prometheus Thane to the ends of the fucking _world_ if I have to!' 

The rage subsided as she stepped back, but the grief had not won over fully, and in a choking voice she said, 'I'm going to Paris. I don't care what you four do, I'm going after Thane.' 

The silence which met her words was thick enough to chew on. Rose couldn't find anything to say which wouldn't sound _stupid_ , and from the stunned look on Matt's face and the sombre one on Albus, they had nothing to put forwards either. It was Scorpius who broke the silence in the end, staring at the floor, voice grating. 

'He asked me to tell you he'd be thinking of you,' he said, numb. 'Never cast a patronus before, did he. Not a corporeal one. He did then. Maybe 'cos he had to. But he was thinking of _you_ to do it.' 

Selena gave a smile that was only grief. 'He wouldn't have been able to sacrifice himself if he couldn't cast that patronus in the first place.' It didn't sound like she was blaming herself - it sounded more like a curse against the world for its cruel jokes. Then she turned on her heel and stormed for the doorway out of the tent, blonde hair whipping behind her like a stream as she fled into grief. 

Scorpius was still staring at the ground, and Rose did go to his side - but she only squeezed his hand briefly, before glancing to the boys, and heading in Selena's wake. Scorpius needed someone, but he had Albus. Selena needed someone, and she thought she had nobody. 

She must have run the moment she was out of the tent, because she wasn't immediately in sight when Rose stepped into the clearing. She had to look around before she spotted a flash of gold in the trees to her left, and hurried in that direction. 

She found the sound of crying before she found Selena. Not just weeping - this was the wracking sobs that rent the body as the soul poured out all of its anguish, and when Rose ducked into the tree-line she found not Selena, but a bundle of all of her pain collapsed into the undergrowth. Her hair had tumbled into her face and her hands clutched the ground as if she would drop off the Earth if she let go, and Rose knew she hadn't been heard because to Selena, right then, the world was nothing more than her pain. 

For months she had borrowed stoicism against her grief. Now it was time to repay that, with interest. 

Rose sank to her knees next to her friend and, without thinking, wrapped her arm around her to pull her closer. Selena went limp, collapsing into her arms and sobbed into her shoulder. Hands clutched at her like she was an anchor to something real and for a moment all Rose could do was sit there, despite everything astonished at the fierceness of the grief and the need. 

'It'll be okay,' she said awkwardly, stroking her friend's hair. 

'How?' Selena gasped between sobs, not lifting her head, slumped as if all strength was gone from her. 'He's gone, he's _gone_ , he's not coming back and now it's all starting again, isn't it?' 

This was, Rose thought, a very good rebuttal, and so for a moment she said nothing as Selena wept on. 

'I never stopped missing him, I never stopped _needing_ him - every time someone walks into a room a part of me thinks it'll be him, and it's like I break _every time_. I dream, sometimes, that he's back, and then I wake up - and on those days I don't manage to do _anything_ but stay curled up in bed like a child -' For a moment Selena's voice degenerated to nothing but incoherent noises, and Rose tightened her hold on her. 'I miss him, I need him, and he's gone so I am nothing, I have nothing...' 

Clarity surged in Rose, along with fierce defiance, and when she spoke there was firm honesty instead of the desperate, awkward need to reassure without knowing how. 'You are _not_ nothing, and you do not _have_ nothing - I've got you, I'm not _leaving_ you, you hear? We're in this together. Thane, or going home, or whatever. You're not alone. I won't let you be alone.' 

The only answer to her promise was more sobbing as the months of self-control imploded in her friend, but Selena still clung to her like she was the bridge from death to life itself. Grief surged around them, pain ruled the day, but Selena let Rose pull her closer, and so as the two women clutched each other there lingered, around the edges of this dark day in these dark woods, the hint of the light of hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so we have some doozies in this chapter. 
> 
> Rose's translation of the transcription above the door ("Was ihr seid, das waren wir") is accurate. "We were what you are, what we are you shall be." It's a cool thing I found during my research, part of a genuine fresco in the (real) town of Badenweiler in which three skeletons address three wealthy, living people. I guess Kerner or whoever built this castle tomb liked it.
> 
> Golems are a genuine part of Jewish folklore which have gone on to be depicted in a number of fantasy stories, from monsters in Dungeons & Dragons to their portrayal in the Discworld novels. With the globe-trotting nature of Starfall, I was keen to play around with other cultural notions of magic. As for why something in Jewish folklore is running around with Templar associations, I will get to that. 
> 
> Templars. Every good conspiracy has to have Templars in it, no? Considering the many implications that wizarding and Muggle societies used to be much more intertwined, I had wondered of the role of magic in such great old organisations, though I promise this isn’t like those summer ‘blockbuster’ novels (or a certain Da Vinci-encoding tale) with Templars being BEHIND EVERYTHING. I will be playing with many facets of history and culture, and this is merely one of them. But we’ll have more on them later. 
> 
> The Chalice of Emrys does not exist. It is a creation of my own devising, though in the same way that the Deathly Hallows are of JK’s own devising, there are various real world notions which have been drawn upon for inspiration. I wanted something which was not too laden with extant expectations, which allowed me to play with it as a writer, and something which was not incongruous in the setting in the way that, say, the Holy Grail would be. But we’ll get to that, too!


	8. To the Occasion

'Why're we sat here like this?' said Selena, eyebrow arched, makeup reapplied to perfection, no sign about her that she'd collapsed into distress merely hours earlier as she looked around the tent's dining table. 

'Because we're going to do this properly,' said Albus, the only one of the five stood up. 'Because this worked before, because I want us to understand what's going on, because I don't want secrets between us.' He looked down at the file before him, the one Selena had stolen from her mother's office, and drew a deep breath. 

'Here's what we know,' he started. 'Prometheus Thane has been lying low since the end of Phlegethon. He's conducted mostly low-importance operations for the Council of Thorns, courier work and an attack in Brazil which turned out to be a diversion for a main hit on local government - before Acosta took charge, of course. He's assumed to be out of favour after losing the Resurrection Stone at Hogwarts, which botched their plans and brought about a cure sooner. Because of this lesser role, his priority as a target for law enforcement dropped. 

'At the same time, there has been opposition from within the International Convocation to hunting him down, simply because there is as-yet no overall binding agreement for hunting enemy wizards across jurisdictions and Thane is a low enough priority that certain governments haven't wanted foreign officials with power in their back yards because of him. It's also possible that he's being protected by governments sympathetic to the Council of Thorns. Or, maybe, both.' 

Albus reached down to pull a photograph from the folder and held it up, a picture of a grey-whiskered wizard. 'This is Professor Dresdner, renowned archaeologist. He was due to talk at a conference in Copenhagen last week, but neither he nor his assistant made any appearance. Thane was spotted in the city at a similar time and the Professor's disappearance was assumed to be connected. We know now, assuming Kerner was not mistaken or lying, that he did indeed abduct the Professor and his assistant, and brought them here, to Badenheim Castle. 

'Badenheim Castle was a Thule Society holding in the war against Grindelwald, and a base for dark wizards gathering magical power and relics from across the country. Kerner claims that Thane took a large number of artifacts with him when he left, but also that he was after, and did not find, one in particular: the Chalice of Emrys. It had been assumed the Thule Society stole it from an ancient Templar repository in Paris when the city fell in the war; Kerner claimed it was never found. Thane, it would seem, has gone to Paris in search of it. 

'He's also not alone. Kerner mentioned allies, amongst which was one Colonel Raskoph, a former follower of Grindelwald, so he's a hundred years old if he's a day. Matt reckons the rank would mean he also had some authority and influence amongst Grindelwald's Muggle allies, so we're talking one of the wizards who worked with and empowered them.' 

Scorpius looked over at Matt. 'Not that I imagine Grindelwald cared a great deal for the Statute of Secrecy considering he wanted to _take over the world_ , but wasn't that problematic _and_ hypocritical?' 

Matt shrugged. 'Hypocritical, yes. Grindelwald wanted to control the magical world and bring the Muggle world under his heel. Historians believe he thought it would be efficient to have, essentially, loyal Muggles. They were waging their own war for their own reasons, so if he backed a side, they would dominate the war, conquer their own world - and then he could control the Muggle world through his puppets. Or, such was the plan; the Alliance of Wizards managed to counter the worst of Grindelwald's influences in the Muggle world, and so the Muggles fought their war _mostly_ without magical interference. As for the Statute... no, he didn't care. That said, the Muggles have often had stories about magic. There are stories even now that the Nazis had occult leanings or even powers. Because Grindelwald's influence was kept to a minimum, those remain nothing more than stories.' His expression pinched. 'This does, however, likely mean that this Raskoph was an adherent of a whole slew of unpleasant supremacist philosophies, if he managed to advance in the Muggle world as any kind of occult adviser. And if he's survived this long - in short, I think we're looking at a real nasty piece of work here.' 

'While Prometheus Thane is so... pleasant,' mused Rose. 

Scorpius' expression pinched. 'That's all you have to update us on about with Thane, right, Al?' 

Albus gave a brief nod. 'That's Thane done, yes. Unless someone has anything to add?' 

Nobody moved except Scorpius, who slouched to bury his face in his hands. 'I do,' he said, voice muffled, and dragged his hands across his face as he looked up. 'I didn't beat Prometheus Thane for the Resurrection Stone. He gave it to me.' 

Heads whipped around to look at him in shock. Albus' jaw dropped. 'What?' 

Scorpius drew an awkward breath. 'I chased him when my ambush started, got the drop on him - and he pinned me down, it wasn't even close, it's _laughable_ to think I could have beaten him. Then he gave me the Stone. He said that he - and implied others in the Council of Thorns - didn't want to see an entire wizarding generation in Britain wiped out, and that Phlegethon had got out of hand, become more dangerous more quickly. He implied the Council would have provided their own cure at some point - considering how they've gone after other governments, I bet they'd have used it to prop up their own lackey in power in Britain - but they didn't have enough time any more. He also said it didn't _matter_ too much - the point had been made, the world feared the Council. This was the same day the Council went public - I think they _did_ so then _because_ they were _choosing_ to let Phlegethon in Hogwarts come to an end.' 

Selena arched an eyebrow. 'Why didn't you tell us?' 

'Because he said he'd kill me, my friends, my family, if I let so much of a whiff of that get out,' said Scorpius simply. 'And you know what - you've not met him, so let me just say he's a scary-ass guy and I believe him.' He opened his hands. 'I don't know what it changes. He's still a nasty piece of work and he still let people die, even if he seemed inclined to _minimise_ the death. I just thought, now, it might be relevant.' 

Matt fixed his gaze on him. 'So all those stories about how you kicked the tar out of an international super-mercenary -' 

'Are bullshit, and that's why I told everyone the story of the _House Elves_ kicking arse in that fight. Because _that_ story's true,' said Scorpius through gritted teeth. 'And that's beside the point. My point is that Thane is unpredictable, and while he works for the Council of Thorns, I don't think he's _wholly_ loyal to them. He has his own rules. That doesn't mean he's a friendly.' 

Albus stared at Scorpius for a moment, then straightened and gave a stiff nod. 'So be it. That's Thane covered, anyway. I've asked if Matt could give us a bit more of a run-down on the Chalice of Emrys.' 

Selena's eyebrow remained raised. 'Why?' 

'Because I'm the only one of us who's taking History of Magic at NEWT. For about five minutes, I admit.' Matt shrugged. 'Which isn't that useful, either, because even by wizarding standards, the Chalice of Emrys is considered more myth than fact. There are a _lot_ of different stories about it, but there are two major schools of thought about its origins. The first is that it was crafted in the Levant - the area of modern-day Israel, Palestine, Syria, that portion of the Middle-East - at the beginning of the first millennium, and was later brought to Britain by wizards who were fleeing the reach of the Roman Empire, or possibly the collapse of the Roman Empire. The second theory simply says it was made _in_ Britain at around this time, in Wales to be precise. That's where accounts get a _little_ bit more helpful. 

'It was certainly in the hands of Myrddin, who may or may not have been one of Merlin's earlier identities. The name "Emrys" either comes from him, _or_ it comes from Ambrosius Aurelianus, a Muggle war-leader from the 5th century who had wizarding allies and supporters and was a precursor to Arthur. It was lost around this time, recovered a century or two later by the Knights of the Round Table, and was then again assumed lost in the fall of Camelot.' 

He rubbed his temples. 'Understand that historical records of this era are patchy, everything post-Roman and pre-Hogwarts is. Wizards in Britain were scattered, living in their own communities with their own ways of life. Camelot and Merlin were unifying, but Camelot's fall destroyed much of what had been written and known of the era. Until Hogwarts was built, and with it came a centralising focal point of wizarding society, not to mention the first centralised magical _library_ in a thousand years, wizarding history and lore in Britain descended to word of mouth -' 

'Okay.' Albus lifted a hand, but smiled. 'We get the picture. Sources are sketchy. What's this about Templars?' 

Matt sighed, slumping back. 'I can only give you conjecture there. The Knights Templar were a Muggle holy order of knights, created to protect pilgrims going to the Holy City of Jerusalem after the First Crusade - that was the Muggles of Europe declaring war on the Muggles of Jerusalem and the surrounding nations, in _broadly_ simple terms, to seize Jerusalem.' He grimaced at the prospect of condensing such matters into a one-sentence summary. 'Remember, this is the era where wizards and Muggles still worked together closely, even if wizards tended to act as advisers rather than taking a pro-active part themselves.' 

Scorpius squinted. 'Why would wizards care about a holy order?' 

It was Rose who answered that one. 'No reason they couldn't believe the same things as the Muggles. Culture was less divided back then. If Muggles could fight and kill one another over faith and belief, why couldn't wizards?' 

'Exactly,' said Matt, grinning wryly. 'I'd have to do more reading to figure out where the Chalice of Emrys fits into the Templar magical history. They _did_ have holdings in Britain, and their wizard members _could_ have got their hands on it. That it would then come to Paris would make some sense, the Templars were powerful there but they also _died_ there in the early 14th century. They were accused of heresy, believed to be trumped-up charges by the French king and the Pope who were threatened by their immense power, and executed. Any of their belongings not found after their dissolution could have been hidden or lost.' 

Albus wrinkled his nose. 'Fast forward to a hundred years ago, and the Thule Society at least believe the Chalice is there, go to Paris - and it's not there. Or, they don't find it. Though Thane believes it's worth looking for.' 

'Okay,' said Scorpius. 'So, now we're treating this thing as being real, I know I've heard all the kids' stories, but what does it _do_?' 

'Hard to say without dragging in the kids' stories,' admitted Matt. 'The legends all agree that drinking from the Chalice would cure and cleanse all wounds or illnesses afflicting the drinker. It could also, more dramatically, grant them a longer life of great health, possibly immortality. The most far-fetched stories say its waters could bring back the dead.' 

Rose groaned. 'No prizes for why Thane wants the Chalice, then.' She shrugged as the others looked at her. 'It's a replacement for the Resurrection Stone. Remember it wasn't just a cure for Phlegethon, it was used in the creation of Phlegethon and the creation of that ritual. Phlegethon needs a breach made between the worlds of the living and the dead to flood the living with necromantic magic while they're still alive. I know it's clear the Council can still use Phlegethon, but what if they want it more powerful? Or what if they only have a limited source of the illness, and want another?' 

'That would be logical,' Albus conceded. 

'Thing is,' said Matt, grimacing, 'that last one - bringing back the dead - is only wild conjecture. I'd need to read more, we're dealing with my bookshelves as a source here, nothing special. Something like the Chalice of Emrys - its powers and its history will always be exaggerated. It's trickled into Muggle culture, as well - either it's inspired the stories of their Holy Grail, or it's been confused with any _real_ stories of their Holy Grail, if it exists. Getting the truth out of myth is going to be almost impossible without the Chalice.' 

'Or,' said Rose, 'without an expert on archaeology who might have spent decades rifling through mythology and historical records to find the root of truth. Like Dresdner.’ 

'All right.' Albus' lips thinned. 'So we believe Prometheus Thane is working with a survivor of the Thule Society to hunt the Chalice of Emrys for the Council of Thorns, a relic which could be used to further empower Phlegethon. Agreed?' 

Scorpius shrugged. 'As good a theory as any.' 

'So here comes the kicker: What do we do about it?' 

Rose sighed heavily. 'There's one question first. Do we think that this information might inspire the International Convocation to actually do something about Thane?' 

'If there _are_ elements of the Convocation sympathetic to the Council of Thorns who're blocking efforts to hunt him, then no,' said Selena promptly. 'This isn't about what they know, it's about what they want, and the Council of Thorns are slithering into world governments. Until or unless my mother, or someone as capable as her, takes the role of Chairman to whip the Convocation into shape, I don't know if we can trust them, trust anyone to go after him properly.' 

'Except for us.' Albus’ brow furrowed as he looked at the gathered. 'I know this is sounding crazy. And only days ago I promised my dad that this was exactly what we _weren't_ doing. But then we ran into this.' He looked at Selena, who had the good grace to look abashed. But not much. 

Matt leaned forwards. 'I was hit by Phlegethon. I wasn't part of your Dream Team. But we're talking about going after a group of mercenaries and a veteran of Grindelwald's war, to try to beat them to a relic of ancient, immense power that might not even exist. Aren't they going to just _kill_ us?' 

'Our alternative,' said Scorpius, 'is to just turn around and go home.' 

Selena sighed. 'I know I said I'd do this without you all,' she said, voice thickening. 'But I know that's stupid. Or I'd have come to Badenheim on my own. We're calling this impossible and crazy - Hogwarts was impossible and crazy, and we got that done.' 

'I'm in,' said Rose, chin tilting up half an inch, and she reached to take Selena's hand. 

Scorpius looked at her with a flicker of surprise. 'Guess I'll go home and let my girlfriend fight mercs and Nazis - oh, wait, no. The other thing.' He gave a grimace of a smile. 'Prometheus Thane scares the crap out of me. Which means him getting what he _wants_ scares the crap out of me. I'm in.' 

Matt tossed his hands in the air. 'Well, then. I’m not letting you go off without someone who knows a thing or two about what you're chasing, am I?' 

Albus looked at him. 'You sure, Matt? You didn't wrangle with Thane -' 

'But he infected me and almost killed me.' Matt's voice went flat. 'You've seen what happened to your sister, the time that took for recovery. There's only one reason I'm capable of fighting a forest troll and hitting a golem with a sword by now, and that's because I looked at what that virus did to my body and _fought_ it, _trained_ to be fit again, strong again. Else I'd still be getting regular Saint Mungo's check-ups. This is a guy who messed up my friends, but he also almost killed my sister and he almost killed _me_. I take a little offence to that.' 

Rose lifted her gaze to Albus. 'What about you?' 

'I can hardly leave you all to go without me,' said Albus. 'But there's one thing we're doing. Some of you might not like it, but I don't care: I'm getting in touch with my dad. I'm telling him what's going on.' 

Rose grimaced. 'You think they were telling the truth?' 

'You think he won't _drag us home by our ankles_?' said Selena. 

'I think my dad knows that sometimes you can't trust the authorities to get the job done.' Albus' expression twisted. 'I think he knows that better than I do. I trust my dad to not go all over-protective on us. But that way he, and my aunt and uncle - they can help us. We're going to need _help_.' 

'Maybe for the best,' said Matt. 'We're a bunch of witches and wizards barely of-age. We're deniable.' 

'Hell, we can get killed by a super-merc and not even cause political havoc while we're about it!' said Scorpius, but he grinned and the smile took the bleakness from his words. 

Albus returned the grin, albeit guardedly. 'We pack up. We get to Berlin. And then we take a Portkey to Paris. And then...' He drew a sharp breath. 'Then I'm going to talk to my father.' 

Breaking camp was not a long process. The magic tent could contract sufficiently that so long as belongings and furniture were stowed away, collapsing it meant the rucksack contained both the tent itself and everything in it. It would be inaccessible on the move, so they removed whatever they'd want to hand for the journey and either carried it themselves, or slipped it into Rose's backpack, despite her muttering about not fishing for their belongings every five minutes. Within thirty minutes they stood in an empty campsite. Within an hour they were in the waiting lounge of the International Portkey Offices in Berlin, waiting for the public portkey that was scheduled for a transit to Paris that afternoon. 

With a couple hours' wait, Albus said he'd go fetch them some food as Matt dug into his Book of Many Books, a still-limping Scorpius was instructed to rest and nap by Rose, and Selena pulled out a magazine and feigned disinterest in the world around her. So he was relieved by the company when Rose got up and joined him. 

There wasn't much here. A waiting lounge with benches, a long corridor lined with small shops that sold little more than snacks and reading material to those waiting for their Portkey out, but Albus remembered passing one sandwich bar on the way through the day before, and that would have to do. 

'You're tense,' said Rose once they were out of earshot of the others, tromping down the corridor. 

'Of course I'm tense,' he said. 'We're embarking on a frankly crazy plan -' 

'Which you enabled, Al. You could have let us run around like headless chickens fussing over what to do next. Instead you got us organised and informed before you made us commit to a decision, and you're trying to have us do this with a sensible plan and sensible backup.' 

'We don't _really_ have a plan - we get to Paris, then what?' 

'Then we look into the Templars, we see if there are any leads on Thane, and by talking to your dad and my mum we can get a whole load more resources to make _both_ goals easier,' said Rose calmly. 'You know this.' 

'Sure,' said Albus, shrugging. 'I don't see why you're worried about me, then.' 

'What would you have done,' said Rose, lips pursed, 'if we'd all said, "screw this, we're going home"?' 

He shrugged. 'Gone home.' 

'All right, I phrased that badly. You never said in there what _you_ want.' 

'Neither did Scorpius.' 

'You know he wants to get Thane,' said Rose. 'Just like I do.' 

'And I don't?' 

'I think you'd accept going home a lot more than we would. And I'm not criticising you for that, Al, it would be the sensible thing to do -' 

He stopped and turned to her, shoulders tensing. 'And that's what I always do, isn't it. The sensible thing? Not the _right_ thing, or even the stupid-but-for-my-friends thing, or the reckless-but-might-just-work thing. Sensible. Always.' 

Rose blinked, but a wry edge tugged at her expression. 'When I said you were tense, this is what I meant. What do you _want_ to do?' 

'What I want isn't exactly the most important thing here -' 

'But it is important. What's your gut saying?' 

Albus scowled. 'My gut is dumb and unkind. The last time I listened to my _gut_ I broke a helpless man's arm, pretending it was for a greater purpose - but, a little bit? It was because I was pissed off and scared and it made me feel better.' 

'Al, we've all made mistakes -' 

' _Your_ mistakes meant you upset Scorpius and Hector. _My_ mistakes would constitute torture, and a messed-up plan which almost got you killed.' 

'Is that why you're going along with what everyone else wants?' challenged Rose, taking a step forward. 'Is that why you're right now... you're _shaping_ us, Al, you're letting us lead the way, you're just trying to make sure we do it sensibly.' 

'What's wrong with that? What's wrong with going with what my friends want, just making sure it's done in a way which doesn't get them killed?' 

'Because your instincts are actually pretty good, Al! And even if they weren't, you're not here to be our, our... babysitter!' She set her hands on her hips. 'When you told us to go after Downing, we agreed and followed you because we believed in you. I did it then and I would do it again. It went wrong, but _I would do it again_. Now you're second-guessing yourself all the time.' 

'I'm trying to be responsible here -' 

'Bloody hell, Albus, when are you going to step out from your dad's shadow?' Rose exclaimed this with such frustration it was obvious the words had escaped without her meaning to let them, but once they'd spilt into the open she scowled and accepted them. 

He returned the scowl. 'I could say that about you and your mother -' 

'No, because I know I'm like Mum in a lot of ways, and _not_ like her in a lot of ways. It's funny, I have two things to thank Methuselah for - sacrificing his life, and being _smarter_ than me.' Rose sighed. 'Mum was the smartest witch of her generation. Since it became obvious I was about as bright, everyone expected me to be the same. Until Jones, the brilliant Jones, the guy I could never beat - except for when I did, and then _you_ beat me. And you know what? _It got me off the hook._

'I can enjoy what I like, do what I like, _be_ who I want, because nobody's expecting me to be my mother. It's not that I've failed. I'm still achieving everything I want to achieve. It's that the expectations were stripped away. You, on the other hand...' She gave him a sad smile. 'We talked about this before. James dealt with this by embracing the expectations. You... in a crisis, you try to be Harry. Except you're not Harry, and that's _fine_ , so instead you're over-thinking.' 

'I have done my best...' 

'And you were at your best when you came up with a ballsy but brilliant plan without which Phlegethon might still be raging. So I almost died. You know what, Al?' She planted a finger in his chest, and though it was a pointed gesture her touch was gentle, affectionate. 'You and I both know it would have been worth it. Is that what bothers you so much?' 

Albus hesitated. 'Methuselah died, and while it was horrible, it was the right thing to do -' 

'Methuselah chose to do that. I didn't choose to get sliced in the gut. I chose to accept the risk, sure. But it's not the same. You flipped at Downing because you wanted to make sure that, if I died, my sacrifice was worth it. And now you hate the idea that you could have chosen to sacrifice me to save everyone else.' 

He bristled. 'That's not what my decision was -' 

'You'd have been right. And we both know it. And you hate that.' Rose sighed. 'It's what your instincts tell you was right, and you hate it, so you distrust your instincts.' 

'I don't see how me taking charge back there shows I'm ignoring my instincts -' 

'You didn't take charge.' She met his gaze flatly. 'It looked like you did, and the others think you did, because they're used to you doing it, and Matt doesn't know better. You didn't lead us. You _organised_ us.' 

'What's the difference?' 

'All you did was take our wishes and turn them into a plan. Which is great, don't get me wrong. But, again, you were at your best when you did something brilliant and daring. We'll need you at your best to fight Thane. You need to cut loose.' 

Albus shrugged. 'What does that even _mean_ in real terms?' 

'What do you want?' 

He squinted. 'What?' 

'What do you want to do? And don't say "help your friends" because you're not our enabler or our babysitter, _stop_ pretending like you are because you're too scared of your own judgement.' 

There was a fervour in Rose's voice which made him blink, but he could see the glint of concern in her eyes which took out the sting, and Albus' expression creased. 'All right. It just sounds stupid.' 

'I bet it doesn't, but I'm listening.' 

'Our parents fought Voldemort when they were our age - but that doesn't sound irresponsible because they didn't have a choice. Voldemort was going to gun for Dad one way or another, and your parents stood by him - because it was the decent thing to do, but the alternative was abandoning their mate. Just like we didn't have a choice in Hogwarts, they didn't have a choice back then. They could choose _how_ to face danger - but danger was coming. Right now, _we_ could go home and try to, I don't know, make sure someone professional goes after Thane.' He spoke in a low, calm voice, trying to not sound like he was leaning one way or another. 

'There are arguments against that,' said Rose, 'like how long it takes before the trail goes cold. But we could do it. Do you want to do that?' 

'No,' said Albus, and the confession was like something burst in his chest - and with that one word, the rest came tumbling. 'I want to stop Thane, and I want to finish what we started. Ourselves. Other people have screwed it up already. The only way to guarantee it gets done the way I want to see it done... is to do it myself. And that's _stupid_ , isn't it? We're seventeen.' 

'It's risky, yes,' said Rose. 'That doesn't mean your reasons are dumb.' 

'This _isn't_ what our parents did. Evil knocked on their door, and they answered. We're looking at danger in the distance and we're riding out to meet it. Last time I did that, you nearly died. And yet, I'm _still_ saddling up.' 

She gave a tight smile. 'You know we'll all feel better, yourself included, then, if you're riding at the front.' 

He looked away. 'I don't want to screw up again, Rosie. You getting hurt. _Me_ losing control like I did. Scorp's got better instincts... Matt's not as worn-down... you're _smarter_ than me...!' 

'And yet, if the impossible needs doing, it's on your say-so we'd do it, Al. You're scared of screwing up again? Then... don't screw up.' 

Albus looked back at her, frowning. 'Great advice -' 

'No, I mean it,' said Rose. 'Hold to what happened. Remember what you did wrong. And don't do it again. We're going to have tough decisions ahead of us, and you've shouldered more than most. Cut loose, Al. We're all of us choosing to do this. There are no innocent lives we're responsible for. This isn't Hogwarts and it's not, like you said, what our parents did.' 

'No,' he sighed. 'You're right. This time, we're going to poke the sleeping bear, for no reason other than that someone's got to do it, and we want it to be _us_. And you're saying you'd all do this repeatedly on my say-so?' 

'What can I say?' Rose gave a lopsided smile. 'We're willing. That doesn't mean we're bright.' 

Albus smiled back, then shook his head and turned for the corridor again, starting in the direction of the sandwich bar. 'When did you get inside my head, Rosie?' 

'I was always there,' she said, relaxing as she fell into step next to him. 'You just don't usually need me to sort things out for you.' 

He put a hand on her shoulder. 'I missed you. All these years. You know that?' 

She took his hand, and though her smile was tinged with apprehension, it was still warm, genuine. 'No need to fuss about the past, Al. We're here, now. And we're in this together. 'til the end.' 

Albus nodded, and his smile brightened to something softer, more sincere. 'Not that I want... I mean, I'm already at the point of being able to paint a blurry watercolour and that's more than I need, really - I just mean, you and Scorp. You're okay?' 

Her cheeks coloured, and she brushed a lock of hair from her face. 'I think so, yeah. It's, um, going to be odd. To have this freedom again. What, you two don't talk?' 

'There are conversations guys have about girls,' said Albus diplomatically, 'and then there are conversations guys _don't_ have when the girl's family. But I am, you know, not just glad you two can be around each other, but, getting on. I was worried, not going to lie.' 

'That we actually hated each other and were just crazy and desperate at Hogwarts?' She smirked. 'No. I guess you owe me an "I told you so," when it comes to Scorpius.' 

He nodded, then said, awkwardly, 'And if you ever need me to sod off, just, you know, say. I know you guys want your privacy out here, and I _swear_ I wouldn't have stomped in this morning if -' 

'Oh, that.' She coloured more. 'No, that was - I mean, we were just talking. It's fine, Al. It's fine. Everything's fine.' 

Albus nodded, then grinned toothily to break the moment. 'Good. Because we might be about to hunt an international super-mercenary, but we've got to make sure our love lives are in order, right?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Merlin is an oddity in the Potter canon - he_ _’s implied to be older than the Founders by overshadowing them culturally, and yet sources say he attended Hogwarts, which almost certainly came_ ** _after_** _any Court of Arthur which might have existed in the Potter continuity. It_ _’s vague and unhelpful, and so I tend to work under this theory that Merlin was a centuries-old dude who operated under many different masks and names and identities, some of which were not known until decades, centuries later. So he could have popped up pre-Arthur, popped up in Arthur’s court, popped up at Hogwarts, and at the time people didn’t know he was the same, awesome wizard._   
>    
> _I wanted to explain this specifically because the Chalice of Emrys and the Templar lore do **not** revolve around Merlin. Myrddin Wyllt, also known as Myrddin Emrys, is a __‘real’ figure of Welsh mythology, and considered to be one of the “proto-myths” for the stories of Merlin (and if you read the myths there’s a reason children don’t get told_ ** _his_** _story). Was he a great old wizard in his own right? Was he Merlin in an earlier_ _‘mask’? I’m happy to leave this one ambiguous. For those wondering, Ambrosius Aurelianus was an historical war leader in Britain in the 5th century. He is not considered to be “one of those guys who could have been Arthur”, but likely a precursor to any such a dude. His name in Welsh was Emrys Wledig._   
>    
> _As you can see, this lends ambiguity to the origins of the Chalice of Emrys. Many of you will also spot the similarities with the tales of the Holy Grail, both in its possible origins in the Levant and then its rather contradictory close ties to British mythology a few hundred years later. As I said last chapter, JK has an honourable tendency to play around with history and usually doesn_ _’t refer_ ** _directly_** _to myth; I would consider the Chalice of Emrys to be something which **could** conceivably be what the Muggles have misinterpreted as the Holy Grail - or something else entirely._   
>    
> _You guys can tell I never finished my history degree, right?_   
>    
> _On another note, you may catch me using the term_ _‘the Levant’ as a catch-all for the region of Israel, Palestine, Syria, and so forth - the city of Jerusalem, the old Crusader States, the many names the region and portions of it have been known by. I don’t want to get bogged down in specific places when I’m talking about vague, made-up myth - and when talking about the region sweepingly I want a term which isn’t laden with issues of what to call it. If Matt (it’ll probably be Matt) wants to talk about somewhere specific, probably in historical terms, he’ll do that. As a sweeping reference, the Levant seems safest. I could call it Israel. I could call it Palestine. I could call it Outremar! I don’t want to use the terms inter-changeably. The Levant it is. Please call me on this if it’s problematic._   
>    
> _Okay, sorry, this is a beast of an author_ _’s note. I said I’d have these addenda to illuminate how much was history, how much was made up, etc. So there you go! Peace out._


	9. City of Light

'First things first,' said Albus as they stepped through the doors of Paris' Magical Assembly, the local centre of government and where the Portkey Offices had been housed. 'We need to find somewhere to stay.' 

Selena turned around and backed off, squinting up at the tall marble building they'd emerged from, with its fine masonry work and gleaming columns. Then she almost fell down the tall steps that led to the streets before them. 'First things first. We're. In. _Paris_.' 

Albus' expression pinched. 'We're not going shopping -' 

'I'm not saying we go shopping, I'm saying we take a moment to go, _oh, my God_ , we're in _Paris_.' Selena swept around the group to seize Rose's arm in an iron hold. 'Though, yes, we're totally going shopping. Oh, oh, do you still have those Madam Malkin's vouchers from Christmas? The Paris branch is even _larger_...' 

'My leg hurts,' said Scorpius. 'So let's gush about clothes and culture later, and find the magic district.' 

'We're in it,' said Matt, leafing through his book. 'We're _on_ the Ile des Roues already. So we won't have to go far.' 

Albus' lips moved wordlessly for a moment. 'Isle of Wheels?' 

'This island is one of the oldest magical communities in Europe; it was inhabited back when the Gauls venerated Taranis who was represented by an eight-spoked wheel, considered to also be symbolic of his associations with the sun -' 

'Do we want a history lesson,' said Scorpius, 'or do we want to find somewhere to stay?' 

Rose looked apologetic as she rifled through her bag for one of her guide books, having thoughtfully placed the one for Paris near the top. 'I highlighted a few hostels...' 

'Nope,' said Scorpius. 'We're not staying in those.' 

Albus' brow furrowed. 'Why not?' 

'Two reasons. One is that they're _manky_. The second one, which you will actually be convinced by, is that this has us bunking in huge rooms with no privacy. We need a proper hotel.' Scorpius' eyes swept up and down the main road of the Ile des Roues for the first time. 

If he’d known more about Parisian history, he might have guessed he was in the magical region before being told. The buildings were old relics from the Middle Ages, leaning together until they reached the main road. It was wide and cobbled, though this was of little issue as only pedestrians roamed such a magical district. As evening drew on the street was cast in a pale, golden glow, and pinpricks of lights could be picked up from the darker alleyways that broke off the main road, soon to bring the city shining to life at night. 

It was unsurprising that plenty of the buildings so near to the centre of government and transportation were hotels. Scorpius waved a languid hand at one halfway down the road, and went limping down the steps. 'That one. I want that one.' 

Albus goggled as he scurried after him. 'We're not going to get a hotel on the main road, Scorp, we can't afford it -' 

'Yes, we can. I'm paying.' He gestured imperiously. 'I never wanted to stay in a manky hostel anyway, I was just going to hold off on this row until we were here. And now we're hunting a mad-man across Europe. Either way, it's no longer the time for you to get fussy about funding this with your pocket money. I have an inheritance. We're spending it.' 

'We can't let you blow all your money -' 

'I assure you,' he drawled, 'it's going to take more than a globe-trotting trip to drain the coffers. We're staying here.' His nose wrinkled. 'And how can they hide a whole island from the Muggles?' 

'I thought you didn't want a history lesson?' said Matt as he and the others jogged to catch up. 

'You've got as long as it takes us to get to the hotel.' 

Matt sighed. 'So glad I can help. The short answer is, "magic". The longer answer is that the island's been hidden for centuries from sight. The Muggles don't notice it's gone because several islands of the Seine have been merged together, by drift and by building up land-bridges. Officially, the Ile des Roues doesn't exist any more, and is simply a part of theIle Saint-Louis nearby.' 

'See, that was short and sweet,' said Scorpius, wagging a finger. 'You're getting better at giving me information in bite-sized chunks so I don't give up caring before you're done.' 

Matt scowled. 'I have a sword, still, you know.' 

'Yeah, about that, you know I just need to say _one_ spell and then you _don't_ have a sword - it might be cool and it might have beaten up a golem, but it's pretty archaic for you to lug it around -' 

'We're going after Templar holdings,' said Rose, voice light. 'The Templars used the golems as long-lived protectors. We might run into more of them.' 

'What even _is_ a golem?' asked Selena. 'I mean, I know it's a magic construct, but... how?' 

'I don't know,' said Matt. 'I'll have to do some reading.' 

'Yes,' sighed Scorpius as they reached the door to the hotel. 'Heaven forfend we don't hit the books.' 

Albus planted his hand on Scorpius' shoulder. 'Remember, we can stay somewhere nice, but let's not get ridiculous, shall we? Like, we don't need a room _each_.' 

Scorpius scoffed. 'I'm never ridiculous when it comes to nice things.' 

He got them a suite. 

'It's not a room each,' Scorpius pointed out when they were finally up there, waving a hand about the large, well-lit main room, tastefully decorated in an art deco style, all red cushions and mahogany floors and wall-panels, the view from the window showing the sprawling, spilling shape of the Ile des Roues and even Muggle Paris beyond. 'There are only three bedrooms. But we can talk here, meet here, plan here.' 

'This is awesome,' said Selena as she padded to the centre of the room, beaming. 

'Let's remember we're not here to mess around,' said Rose, frowning at Scorpius. 

'Of course not. But we're going to have enough crappy things happen. _Have_ had enough crappy things happen. We might as well have some _fun_ while we can,’ he said. 

She gave a flicker of a smile. 'Speaking of crappy things,' Rose said, and grew stern again, 'you, bedroom, now.' 

Scorpius worked his jaw wordlessly, Selena and Albus stopped and squinted at Rose, and Matt tossed his hands in the air. 'I'm going to go unpack,' he said. 'I'm sure I put some bleach in my bag somewhere. If you hear me screaming, it's just me pouring it in my ears.' 

'I _mean_ ,' said Rose, colouring, 'that you took a nasty injury this morning which we _still_ haven't properly looked at, and so you're going to lie down and I'm going to see to it!' 

'See to it,' echoed Selena, now going to drape herself languidly across one of the couches. 'I'm _sure_ he'll feel better once you're done.' 

Rose raised an aggravated finger. 'You can all sod off.’ She pointed at the door and glared at Scorpius. 'Go. Now.' 

'I'd just like to point out,' he said, wilting, 'that I didn't make a _single_ joke and you're about to take your frustrations out on me!' 

'Go!' 

Scorpius scurried as best as a limping man could scurry to the nearest bedroom, hearing Albus mutter, 'This is more than I ever wanted to know about them and their _frustrations_ ,' in their wake. 

Rose closed the bedroom door behind them and slumped against it, eyes shut. 'That was not my most eloquent moment ever.' 

Scorpius gave her a mock-pout. '”Speaking of crappy things”?' 

'Sit _down_.’ She pointed to the opulent bed that sat in the centre of the opulent room. 'I'll make up for it later.' 

His expression shifted for a smirk as he slumped, with some relief, onto the foot of the bed. 'Why not make up for it now?' 

'Because you're injured, and I only gave that a cursory look-over in Badenheim, and I want to make sure you're okay, so that's _all_ I'm going to do. Now, take off your trousers.' 

'I'm getting mixed signals here -' 

'Off! Or I'll get Matt in here to sort you out instead.' 

The smirk died. 'That's _cheating_.' But he still obliged, with a good degree of awkwardness, and so had to give her a lopsided glance as he unbuttoned his jeans. 'You know, this isn't what I had in mind when I thought of you charming me out of my clothes -' 

'You realise this isn't making this _less_ awkward,' said Rose flatly. 'I'm the best of us at healing magic. It won't take long. Stop being so fussy, and let me see the wound.' 

Scorpius sighed, dropped his trousers, and slumped on the bed. She came to sit down next to him, gaze going with rather more calm than he felt to the livid flesh along his left thigh. The cut was clean now, though the skin still split, and as she rested her fingertips there gently, he gave a small hiss of pain. 

'Sorry,' she muttered, though this at least had made the moment entirely about healing, and she wafted her wand over the cut. 'It's not serious. I was worried there might have been some magic on the blade, but it looks like there wasn't. I should have seen to this in Badenheim...' 

'We were busy, I didn't want to disturb you -' 

'You should have _said_ ,' Rose pressed, frustrated in that way he knew meant she was irritated at herself. She didn't stop her work, the wand sending a cooling sensation through his leg as she cast her spells. 'Not limped around on it for hours -' 

'I apparated to Berlin, I sat down on a bench for an hour, and we have walked probably less than a few hundred metres since leaving Badenheim. We had to make the portkey here today. You had to pack. It wasn't a big deal,' he said firmly, though the cooling sense was turning pleasantly warm and now beginning to spread across his body, making it harder to be filled with conviction. 

'It could have been,' she muttered, brow knitting as she lowered her wand. The skin where his wound had been was now smooth, new, pink, and she got to her feet in a sudden, awkward move. 'Well. You can get dressed now.' 

He staggered upright and, rather groggy, pulled his jeans back up. 'That feels... better. Thanks.' 

'Just practice _dodging_ next time, hm?' 

Scorpius reached out to grab her hand. 'I'm careful. I'm always careful. And I'm okay.' 

'Except we're going to do this a lot more. This won't be the last time one of us gets hurt -' 

'And it's not the first time, and we've pulled through now, and we'll pull through again. Trust me.' 

Rose sighed. 'I do. We just both know we're not untouchable, and we're lunging into danger...' 

'We're not in danger now. Let's make the most of it.' He gave her hand an insistent tug which pulled her a step towards him, allowing him to grab her waist and draw her against him in a sudden move. His balance wasn't as good as he'd thought, though, and she crashed into him with a small noise of protest to send him tumbling onto his back on the bed, dragging her down with him. 

'Not what I intended,' Scorpius said, but settled for wrapping his arm around her to stop any possible escape. 'But I'll manage.' His free hand came up to push the tangle of hair from her face, and he tugged her down for a kiss. 

She softened against him, the embrace lingering, melting, but within a few moments was grinning through the kiss, and she pulled back, eyes shining. 'I'd tell you to take it easy and get some rest,' Rose whispered. 'But you're going to be asleep in the next minute anyway...' 

Scorpius blinked as he did, indeed, feel a muggy sensation creeping on. '...did you sedate me?' 

'The most efficient healing spells draw on _your_ energy to patch up the wounds. We've got time for you to rest. So I used one of those spells.' Her next kiss was light, gentle, and she slid from his arms while he was unable to offer more than a weak protest. 'Sleep. You need it.' 

He pawed weakly at the air, but she wasn't there any more. 'M'all right,' he slurred. 

'Good,' said Rose, her voice coming from the door as his eyelids drooped shut despite his instructions. 'Then you'll feel better for some rest.' 

And before he could summon even the words for a protest, he'd slipped off to blissful, black oblivion.

* * 

'Is this going to be noisy?' said Rose, eyeballing the boys as they flicked their wands to push the furniture against the walls. She stepped away from a skidding coffee table and hopped up the steps to join Selena on the futon by the bay window, where they could sit with an elevated view of the madness. 'Scorpius needs _rest,_ and crashing around won't help.' 

'These walls are thick. We're putting up charms. It'll be fine,' said Albus, lifting a hand. 

'I'm more worried if you're going to _break_ something.' Selena peered around the room. 'We're in a fancy hotel suite. You don't _spar_. And not with _swords_.' 

Matt walked over to where he'd set the sword down, and picked it up. 'Technically, with just the one sword.' 

'Oh. Well. That makes breaking things _fine_.' 

'She has a point,' said Rose. 'Do you need to do this here?' 

'Where else are we going to do it?' said Albus. 'It's important.' 

'I don't disagree that practicing's important - and anyway, what's to stop _you_ getting your head chopped right off?' squeaked Rose, flapping her hands. 

'I've put a charm on the blade,' said Matt, and extended the sword towards her in case she wanted to check it. She really didn't. It wouldn't help. 'It'll bounce off an inch away. Might be like smacking him with a bat, but no worse than a Stun.' 

'Anyway,' said Albus, with a firm smirk. 'He won't hit me.' 

'Can't this _wait_?' 

'Matt wants to lug around a relic from a Thule Society repository. I think it's a waste of time. Best we put this to the test.' 

Matt made a face. 'I'm not saying I want to go toe-to-toe with Prometheus Thane with a bloody sword. I'm saying that it was useful in Badenheim, as has been pointed out, if we're chasing Templar holdings, there might be more golems. Besides. I still have my wand. The sword might be useful.' 

'All right, then.' Albus walked to an open space, then straightened and adopted a classic duelling stance, left arm behind his back to keep his posture secure and the hand out of the way, right arm low before him, wand-tip pointed down. 'Prove it.' 

Selena leaned over to Rose. 'This should be good, right?' she whispered. 'I mean, Doyle _was_ captain of the duelling club...' 

'Oh, he was. And he's good. But nobody's Albus.' 

Matt was deciding which stance to take, and opted for holding his wand in his left hand, the sword in his right, and leading with that side. This took some shuffling of feet until Albus gave a genuine smile and said, 'In your own time, mate,' which had Matt, with some irritation, setting his feet and giving a stern nod. 

'Rose,' said Albus, eyes locked on Matt, completely still. 'Give us a count.' 

Rose rolled her eyes. 'Three, two, one. You may begin.' 

The last word was barely past her lips - but it was - before Albus' wand swished with the most conservative of movements. Albus didn't even speak, and then the sword was flying from Matt's hand at a Disarming Charm, soaring - before Selena's wand shot out, and it floated to the ground instead of embedding in a wall. 

'This,' said Selena, 'is why I don't let boys near nice things.' 

Albus lifted a hand as Matt went to move, and both stopped. 'That's enough. We can do a straight wand-fight any time. I wanted to see the sword.' 

Matt scowled. 'I'm still figuring it out. Let's go again.' 

'It might be magic,' Albus said, 'but that's no use if you can't _hold_ it.' 

'Then maybe I can _practice_ ,' said Matt. 'There's something I want to try. We go again.' His wand shot out to the side and the sword went flying to his hand, though Rose had a brief vision of Matt impaling himself instead. 

'Can we have the swords fly less? I'd feel better if there were fewer flying swords,' she said, voice tense. 

'Just give us another countdown, please,' said Albus, gaze again locking on Matt, who still had the sword in his right hand, but had shifted to lead with the wand this time. Rose groaned, but did as she was bidden, and then the rematch was on. 

Albus did nothing this time, simply stood and watched Matt, and from months of studying him fight, Rose knew what was up. He'd wanted to make a point the first time, highlighting the inefficiency of a weapon like the sword, which was why he'd cast a Disarming Charm so soon. This time, not only did he know such a tactic would be expected, but he wanted to properly test the situation. 

Matt didn't cast right away, either, but he was the first one to move - one step forward, two steps forward, then Albus _did_ lash out with a Stun which Matt caught with a Shield charm, clumsy when cast with his left hand but still doing the job, and Matt broke into a run. 

There was a flash of sparks from Albus' wand which Rose knew was a Disarming Charm, but again, Matt caught it on a Shield. Another flash from Albus, and this one broke through Matt's defences to crack him on the shoulder, but the Stun was cast swiftly enough to only make him stumble, then the two of them were upon each other. Matt swung the sword in a heavy, overhead blow that Albus couldn't jerk away from, so his wand came up and the air around him rippled with the barrier of a Shield charm. 

When the sword hit the Shield, there was the crash of magical sparks - then Albus' spell collapsed. The blade kept slicing through the air, and Rose's heart leapt into her throat when it came down at Albus - but, as predicted, the impact was no worse than that of a hefty Stun as it thudded into his shoulder, one which was enough to knock him off his feet, hitting the floor with a thump. 

He lay there for a moment, chest heaving from exertion, while Matt stared at the sword with some astonishment. Then he remember himself, sheathing his wand and extending a hand to help Albus up. 

'So,' said Albus ruefully, rubbing his back. 'That worked.' 

'All sorts of tactical weaknesses,' said Matt, 'not least of which is that I need to be better at either casting or swinging with my left hand.' 

'You had to focus entirely on defensive just to close the distance. It's something of an all-or-nothing gambit.' 

'But it's something most enemies won't be trained to deal with. I'm best keeping it in reserve for if a fight starts to go sour, than using it as my primary tactic.' 

'Why would the Templars even _have_ a magic sword?' Albus asked, brow furrowed. 

'I'm still figuring that out,' Matt admitted. 'This isn't something I know a huge deal about. The question is if it was wielded by wizard members of the Order, as a legitimate weapon or mostly ceremonial, or if it was wielded by Muggle knights to give them a fighting chance if they came up against magic.' He shrugged. 'We're talking of a time of far more interaction between the magical and the non-magical; being armed for both worlds would only be logical...' 

'Oh, no,' said Selena as Albus and Matt descended into analysis of the relative strengths and weaknesses of their techniques. 'Boys with their toys.' 

'I suppose we're going to have to get used to these toys, and these conversations, and this training if we're going after Thane,' Rose said. 

'You say that like you haven't been keeping up with training since Hogwarts.’ 

'I have. It's just different when we _know_ we're going to be fighting for our lives, as opposed to taking self-defence more seriously because of the _possibility_ of danger.' 

‘What _have_ you even been practising, anyway?’ 

‘This and that.’ Rose looked down to the lower levels at the boys. 'Are you two going to tidy up after yourselves?' 

Albus and Matt looked around, brows furrowed. 'But we were going to try a few more techniques...' 

'Nope. Dinner. We're getting room service. But only _after_ you've put everything back the way it was.' 

Albus squinted at her. 'Every day you become more and more like your mother.' 

'If I did, then you'd be doing what I say,' said Rose, and wasn't sure if it was a victory that the two of them, grumbling, started putting the furniture in place. The sweep of a wand could push everything to one side. The sweep of a wand would _not_ remember where everything had originally been. 

Selena smirked. 'They know their place,' she said, though Rose watched the smile carefully. Selena looked tired and drained, and though the smirk held an artificial edge, she seemed more self-mocking than as tense as she had looked for the last few days - weeks. Months. 

It was a delicate balance, and not one Rose wanted to shift, but before she could figure what to say, Selena had looked at her, gaze equally assessing, and dropped her voice to be unheard by the boys under the sound of their clattering. 'You haven't unpacked yet.' 

'No?' 

'Doyle is bunking with Albus. Scorpius needs his rest, so he's in his own room. And _I've_ unpacked in the last room.' Selena didn't bother being subtle, and the penny finally dropped. 

'Oh.' 

'You mean that wasn't planned? Weasley, again I over-estimate you.’ 

'Scorpius is going to hopefully sleep through the night. So I'll share with you.' 

'Mm-hm. You do know that none of us _care_ , right?' Her gaze flickered to Matt, and Rose tried to not think about that. 

' _I_ care. Now's not exactly been an ideal time for a conversation.' 

'You don't need to hold a committee, Weasley. Or bribe him. It'll pretty much take care of itself if you show up at his door.' Something shifted in Selena's gaze, but then Matt and Albus finished their furniture arranging, and her eyes snapped over to them. 'No, no!' she said, voice raising, the artfully controlled Selena Rourke again. 'That coffee table was _not_ there...' 

Rose suppressed a worried smile as she watched Selena give imperious commands to the two boys, and her gaze lingered, last of all, on Albus. 

_Thank God for you, Al,_ she mused. _I need one relationship here which isn't going to give me a panicking fit..._

* * 

Scorpius woke to sunlight creeping through the bedroom window, and for a moment he thought he was in his bed back at Malfoy Manor, the place he still struggled to not call "home" by instinct. With the assumption came the familiar tightening of his chest, the pricking of his ears to listen for the tell-tale signs of whether it was safe to be in the house... 

...and instead of shouting or footsteps he got the hustle and bustle of a city beyond the walls, and reality came rushing back. 

He sat up, muscles twinging with the ache of recent exertion, but it took him a moment to remember his leg injury, for movement came with no pain. He clambered to his feet without issue, and grabbed his pocket watch. Nine o' clock. 

Scorpius squinted at the window. It was light out there. Had he slept for coming up on eighteen hours? It certainly didn't feel like he'd slept for less than six. 

Maybe he _had_ needed time to recover from the fight after all. 

He shrugged into one of the hotel dressing gowns and slumped into the main room to find it empty and quiet, until a flicker of movement caught his eye and he spotted Selena reclined on the futon by the windows, a magazine in hand. He squinted at her. 'Morning?' 

'It is,' she said, turning a page. 'How're you feeling?' She didn't look at him. 

‘I slept like the dead.' He ran a hand through dishevelled hair and slouched over. 'Where is everyone?' 

'Out. We're waiting on word back from Rose and Albus' parents, but they've all decided to go look at a place where a bunch of Muggles died seven hundred years ago like it'll tell us something.' Her voice was clipped, tense, and she gave a languid gesture for the table before her. 'I had room service bring up breakfast.' 

Scorpius realised he was very hungry at about the same time he realised breakfast was going to include a lot less fried food and a lot more pastries and bread than was ideal. Still, he moved to the armchair across from her, and reached for the platters of food which the others had clearly also helped themselves to. 'Thanks,' he said quietly. 

'Don't thank me,' said Selena. 'You're paying for it.' She turned another page. 

Awkward, he decided to not complain about the lack of hot food, and instead tucked into a croissant. 'Mmf.' He swallowed. 'That's actually really good.' 

'Freshly baked at the boulangerie across the road this very morning,' said Selena like she was reeling something off. 'There's tea. And coffee. Apparently you should rest and eat, or your leg might drop off.' Finally she looked up and arched an eyebrow at him. 'You're feeling better?' 

He had another face-full of croissant, and so chewed quickly. 'Mmf,' he said again. 'Yeah. Rose fixed me right up.' 

'I bet she did.' 

Scorpius cringed. 'I'm sorry.' 

Selena tossed the magazine to one side. 'What for?' 

'For - for what I said yesterday. For saying you didn't care about Methuselah. That was stupid of me.' 

Her eyes flashed, but only for a moment, and her next sigh was softer. '...it's what I wanted you to think. It's what I wanted _me_ to think.' 

Scorpius put down the croissant. Now was not the time to talk with a full mouth. 'Did it help?' 

Selena looked away, gaze going to the windows, to the hustle and bustle of the busy Parisian street beyond. 'No. Nothing helped. I could just pretend it did.' She hesitated. 'I shouldn't have put down what you went through. It must have been hard, to... to watch him go.' 

He stared at his hands. 'I was going to go. He stopped me - he _tied me up_ , he... he said it had to be him, he had to be the one to go change the ritual. That he was the best at that.' 

Her eyes slammed shut for a heartbeat, and she visibly struggled to get her mask of control back in place. 'He was the best at that,' she breathed. 

'I know he and I weren't that close,' said Scorpius stiffly. 'I know his death hasn't left this… this gulf in my life. That my life goes on without him. And I'm sorry. I wish...' His voice trailed off as he realised there were too many things to wish for, and not a thing that wishing could do. He sighed, and just said, 'I wish.' 

'I tried to be the old me,' said Selena, voice hollow as she stared into the street. 'The one who didn't care about anything important, because there was nothing important. Boys would come and go and be fun. School would end, and be fun. Friends... even they were... well, you know what they were like. I thought I could go back to that. To people who didn't know. Didn't care. That if I made my life _like_ it was before, it would _be_ what it was before...' Her voice shuddered, but to his relief her eyes were dry. 'It didn't work. 

'But life goes on, doesn't it?' she continued, bitterness creeping in. 'The sun rises. People live their lives. The world turns. You'd think that if you just lay down and waited for it to all end, it'd end. But it doesn't. There comes a point where you have to stop feeling like you're going to die, and - the feeling doesn't go away, you have to _make_ it go away.' Selena's brow furrowed. 'I think. I'm not sure I'm there yet.' 

Scorpius stiffened. 'Don't -' 

'I don't mean doing something stupid - not like that.' Her shoulders slumped. 'I just mean feeling like the day has purpose.' Finally she looked at him, eyes still dry, even though her voice was creaking. 'I'm sorry I dragged you out here.' 

'The only place you dragged us was Badenheim,' he said. 'You didn't drag us into that castle. You didn't drag us underground. You certainly didn't drag us to Paris. At most, maybe, you dragged Doyle into the path of a troll, and I for one can forgive that.' He tried a smile, and was rewarded with a twitch at her cheek. 'We're choosing this, Selena.' 

'I'm not even sure why I am. Why I did this. Vengeance? Justice?' Her perfect nose wrinkled. 'What does it matter if Prometheus Thane gets locked up or killed? I mean - I know it stops him. But it doesn't... I don't know if I'd feel better. I don't know what it'd change. And then there are days I think I'd break his neck with my bare hands if I just got the chance...' 

'I know what you mean,' said Scorpius. 'A little. It won't bring him back. And I don't know if it'll make me feel better. But I can't pretend I want Thane stopped just for... altruistic reasons. Or else, why would I want to do it myself?' 

Selena drew a shaking breath. 'I think I need to understand why,' she said at last. 'Why Thane did this, why the Council are doing this. Why Methuselah died. What he died fighting. Right now, it's senseless, and he wouldn't be the first person to die senselessly, but...' She looked away again, quickly, and this time she was blinking. 'I'm sorry,' she blurted out. 'I'm sorry I pulled you into this. I'm sorry I hit you.' 

'I deserved it,' said Scorpius. 'I'm just sorry for thinking so little of you. I should have known better.' 

'No.' She shook her head. 'Why would you? Why would you think better of me? It's how I've always been. Until...' A muscle in the corner of her jaw twitched. 'Until him. And even then, that took time, that was by accident...' 

For a moment he thought she was going to burst into tears, but instead a noise of frustration escaped her throat, and she lunged to her feet. 'I am so sick of crying! I'm so sick of feeling like this! And then stopping feeling like this feels like giving up, like _forgetting_ , the idea of feeling happy again feels like...' 

'Like you can be happy and he can't, and that makes you a horrible person?' Scorpius stood as well, gaze sympathetic. She nodded, slumping at last, shoulders slouched, and he crossed the distance to pull her into a careful, but sincere hug. She clutched at him right away, like the warmth of contact was a life-line. 

'We'll get Thane,' Scorpius promised, voice low. 'And you'll be okay.' 

Selena's reply was muffled, face buried in the shoulder of his dressing gown. 'Even if I shouldn't be?' 

'Yeah,' he murmured, voice thickening. 'Even if we shouldn't be.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Ile des Roues, Isle of Wheels, is entirely fictitious. That there have been many isles of the Seine, some of which have been built up into other isles or simply built up to join the mainland, is not. In searching for something cool and wacky to house the hidden Parisian magical culture, this sparked my inspiration - that the Muggles could know of an isle which **used** to be there, thinking it to have just been lost in the mass of land, but for this to be the wizards_ _’ bluff. Instead it’s right there, masked by charms, directly under their noses._   
>    
> _Its name is aptly explained by poor Matt, who gets interrupted by a cranky Scorpius - derived from the symbolism of the God Taranis, which I chose mostly to imply this region has been settled for a **long** time, steeped in local lore and history. And let_ _’s face it, nowhere is going to be as coolly-named as “Diagon Alley”, so why try?_


	10. Guiding Star

'It's a nice park,' said Albus, brushing crumbs from his pastry off his t-shirt as he looked around the sculpted grass, the bowing trees casting lines of shadow in the cascade of mid-morning sunlight. He could smell the river, the Seine's waters rushing on the other side of the nearby hedge, and the three of them were not the only ones to think coming to such a picturesque spot for an early walk was a good idea. 

Though he suspected the intentions of the Muggle tourists were less morbid. 'Why would you execute someone in a park?' he added. 

'It wasn't a _park_ in 1314,' said Matt a little testily as he approached the steps at the far end of the greenery, the stairway leading to the three pillars and a gated passageway through the wall. 'It was - this was a whole separate island back then.' 

'I thought islands remained islands,' mused Albus, and licked sugar off his fingertips. 'I didn't know they merged with _other_ islands.' There was a giggle to his left, and he glanced over to see a gaggle of girls about his age, a couple of them throwing smiles and glances in his direction it took him a moment to tell weren't mocking. He grinned back. 

Rose, next to him, rolled her eyes. 'New rule: If we want to be discreet, we don't let Albus go anywhere in a t-shirt. I think his biceps are about to make girls pass out.' 

'So it'd be wiser to let me go somewhere shirtless?' Albus smirked. 'I prefer them smiling at me for my biceps than my name.' 

'Here it is,' said Matt with impatience, and pointed at the plaque set into the central of the three pillars. He squinted up. ‘ _A cet endroit_ … in this place… ah. “At this spot”, or “in this place” - you get the idea - “Jaques de Molay, last Grand Master of the Order of the Templars was burned on 18th March 1314.”’ 

Albus waited for a sarcastic comment on how this translation had told them nothing they didn't already know, but realised neither Scorpius nor Selena was present. It was a curious sensation; he normally received such comments with apprehensive dread at the clashes it would cause, but in their absence was left having to make a good point more diplomatically. 'What were you hoping to find here?' he said at last. 

Matt sighed, stomping down the steps back to them. 'I don't know. Pretty obvious there's going to be nothing here, isn't it? The Grand Master of the Templars was burned seven hundred years ago. Everyone knows this. There aren't going to be any secrets about this park. I thought coming here might... I don't know.' 

'Inspire us?' Rose frowned around the park. 'It's a nice place. Hard to imagine a horrible execution happened here. But we're talking about a magical artifact - several, in fact. And these were _hidden_ when Templar assets were seized. Maybe we should be looking to records from after 1314, and also to more magical ones.' 

'I don't _have_ many places to research,' said Matt, wincing. 'This isn't my era of expertise. Everyone who reads anything knows a little something about the Templars, but there are so many _stupid_ conspiracy stories around them, from wizards and Muggles alike, it's hard to know what's the truth. If I hadn't seen Badenheim with my own eyes, I would have assumed anyone saying "Templars had the Chalice of Emrys" was pulling my leg.' 

'Kerner didn't give us much to go on.' Albus' brow knotted. 'I doubt Thane or this Raskoph had more than that. All they have is "Templar repository" and "Paris". They're going to be as blind as we are. And they're only a few days ahead of us.' 

'So we don't look for the Templars, we look for Thane?' Rose cocked her head. 

'Maybe, though I'd rather beat him there than follow his trail. I was thinking more that he's going to have to find this place, too. So this is less about where _we'd_ go to look for some hidden Templar cache, and more about where _he'd_ go.' 

'Wait a minute.' Matt's nose wrinkled. 'You're right. Except, we don't need to go chasing old records about Templar holdings. We can go looking for _much_ more recent records about where the Thule Society might have been digging or investigating during the Nazi Occupation. It's not like they'd have needed to bother to be discreet!' 

'So, Rose, I believe our next step plays to your strengths.' Albus gave his cousin a good-natured grin. 'We'll have to go to the library.' 

She rolled her eyes, but looked as invigorated as he felt by the dawning of a promising idea. 'Let's stop by the hotel and check up on the others, first.' 

'Agreed,' said Albus, 'and I want another one of those little apple pastry things.' He liked French food, he thought. There was just, so far, not _enough_ of it. 

So they walked back across the bridge off the Ile de la Cité, and down the river banks along with the mid-morning traffic of tourism. Central Paris was different to central London, so far as Albus could tell, though he knew himself to hardly be a city boy. London seemed more cramped, more frantic, and while Paris was hardly languid, especially along the central banks of the Seine, there seemed more enjoyment of the surroundings, of the sculpted buildings and ancient sites. Or, he conceded, he was simply bewitched by the novelty of the place, whilst London by now was uniformly grey and dreary to him. 

Even on a gloomy, rainy day, he thought, Paris would be sombre, thoughtful, while London would just be depressing. 

But it was not a gloomy day. It was a stunning day of late spring, and though the breeze off the river stopped him from feeling too hot, he had absolutely no intentions of putting on long sleeves. Whatever Rose said about his arms being indiscreet. The attention felt fun, for once, instead of making him apprehensive. 

The people here didn't know his name, and they wouldn't care. 

Despite Rose's protests, he stopped off for another pastry on the way back, and though communicating still consisted more of smiling, pointing, and speaking in a cheerful manner, he was surprised how far that got him. Far enough for another breakfast, anyway. 

She looked betrayed when Matt, too, treated himself to another croissant, and grumbled exaggeratedly about boys only being able to focus on food as they wandered along the banks of the Seine. When they got to the large stone markers by an empty stretch of waters, the appropriate bricks were pressed - and then the magically masked bridge to the magically masked Ile des Roues stretched out before them. 

'I don't get how they hid a whole island,' said Matt. 'I mean, I know _how_ , in theory. It's just a bit _smug_.' 

'At least they didn't have to bend space-time like Diagon Alley does. As far as Muggle maps are concerned, the two roads on either side of Diagon are adjacent to one another. _This_ is just a patch of river nobody pays any attention to, or takes boats out to,' said Rose. 

'I know. Still. Smug.' 

There was a curious change of energy when moving from Muggle Paris into magical Paris. Muggle Paris was remarkably well-ordered - Matt had said something about the city being heavily redesigned a hundred and fifty years earlier. The magical district, beyond the main road, was still a tumble of houses into other houses, roofs leaning in towards one another down the narrow alleyways, so close Albus wondered if you could step from building to building with only a gap of inches showing the abyssal drop to street level. 

He peered down one such alley as they crossed the bridge. 'So I guess the wizards didn't get the island revamped like the main city.' 

Matt gave a wry smile. 'I don't think Napoleon III included the Ile des Roues on his refurbishment plans, no.' 

Rose peered at him. 'There were three Napoleons?' 

'No,' sighed Matt. 'Just two.' His lips twitched. 'And the last King Louis was called Louis the XVIII. Except only seventeen kings called Louis were ever crowned. Go figure.' 

Albus squinted. 'These French are crazy.' 

'Yes,' said Matt, 'but it is a _nice_ city, isn't it?' 

'And a nice hotel,' sighed Rose as they reached their destination. 'Are we sure we can't do something about Scorpius paying for all of this?' 

'Like what? He's right, we need somewhere with privacy, and the moment we're booking hotel rooms in Paris with absolutely no advance booking, we're going to have to rely on his cash,' said Albus. 'And the moment he's paying for it, he gets to pick where.' 

Matt gave a sly smile. 'Let's just hope we have to go to more exotic places with fancy hotels, huh?' 

Rose swatted him on the arm. 'We can't take him for granted -' 

He lifted a hand. 'Oh, come off it, Rose, he _loves_ it and you know it.' 

Albus chuckled as he entered the lobby, a huge room of mahogany floors and red drapes. 'I'm afraid to say Matt is right. Scorp _was_ just itching for the excuse.' 

Rose rolled her eyes. 'Yes, well, he always -' Then she froze as she spotted the figure stood by the reception desk, and her expression shifted from frustration to pleased apprehension. 'Mum.' 

Hermione Granger crossed the lobby to the doors and wrapped her daughter in a warm hug, even if she'd only been away from home for two nights by now. 'I thought I'd skip trying to talk on Floo, and took a Portkey down this morning,' she said, giving them a tired smile. 'You know. To make sure your holiday's going well.' 

It wasn't subtle, but it certainly got the message across. Albus gestured towards the stairway that wound deeper into the belly of the hotel, away from the mid-morning passers-by of staff and hotel guests who could easily overhear any conversation they would have. 'Let's head up to the room, then.' 

They passed the trip up in silence, and waited awkwardly while Rose fished out the key to let them into the suite. Albus was relieved, as they filtered in, to see that Scorpius was up, about, dressed, and not looking as hideously tired as the day before. 

And he was amused to see the flicker of panic as they were followed in by Rose's mother. 

Selena, for her part, rose from the futon with a wry expression. 'Of course,' she mused. 'It wouldn't be a crisis without you here to give us a morning briefing, Ms Granger.' 

'I thought we'd go back to tradition,' said Hermione, though her voice was clipped with worry. 'It's good to see you all. Rose brought me up to speed on what you know. So I thought I'd come down here and speak in person, for once.' 

'Let's all sit down,' said Scorpius, flapping his hands. 'We should have some tea. Tea? Coffee?' 

_When in doubt and trying to reaffirm a good impression,_ mused Albus, _make a cup of tea._

'Tea would be lovely, Scorpius,' said Hermione, then gave him an assessing glance as she saw his mild limp. 'What happened to your leg?' 

'Oh? That? It was nothing. Just a little stabbing. Incredibly inconsequential and _very_ heroic, I assure you,' said Scorpius, and went for the good china. 

Hermione seemed to accept this, and waited until everyone had a drink and was sat down around the coffee table before the bay window before she next spoke, her expression pinched in a manner Albus recognised from when Rose was flummoxed. 'As I said,' she began, 'Rose explained everything.' 

Rose looked abashed, still. 'We said we would,' she pointed out needlessly. 

'We did,' said Albus, voice calming. 'We're being open about this.' 

'I know, and I appreciate that,' said Hermione. Her gaze swept across them all. 'And I'd encourage you to reconsider.' 

A noise of protest escaped Rose's lips. 'You said you'd support us on this!' 

'You are deciding that the best thing to do is chase Prometheus Thane and his associates, professionals all of them, across Europe to try to thwart his plans which are to _very probably_ acquire a relic that could further empower the Phlegethon virus.' 

'Yes,' said Albus, jaw setting. 'I think that's something that needs doing.' 

'You cannot treat this man lightly -' 

'We don't. We've faced off against him and his men before. We know they're dangerous.' He leaned forwards. 'Did you share this information with the Convocation?' 

Hermione's expression tightened. 'I confirmed that the sightings of Thane in Badenheim were accurate, and that he had moved on to Paris -' 

'Are they going to do anything about this now he's confirmed to be moving across international borders?' 

A pause. 'There has been no more progress on unity in the hunt for Thane, no -' 

'And isn't the Chairman's election, the best chance of steering the Convocation to wielding its new powers with any degree of decisiveness, still a fortnight away?' 

Hermione's eyes turned to the ceiling. 'Yes. But this doesn't mean it has to be you who -' 

'Who's it going to be?' pressed Albus. 'A group of Aurors operating illegally abroad? Dad and Ron acting off the books? The moment they're spotted anywhere, the world's going to know what they're up to, and won't believe they're not acting officially.' 

'There has to be some other group of private citizens who can -' 

' _Who_?' Albus repeated. 'Don't get me wrong, if you can come up with a more efficient and official way to hunt down Prometheus Thane, I'm all for it. But for whatever reason, he's been protected by certain countries and that means this isn't possible. In two weeks he might have what he wants, or we might lose the trail.' 

Hermione faltered again, but it was Matt who spoke next, hands clasped around his coffee cup. 'Why _is_ it so hard to get the Convocation together on the idea that Prometheus Thane is bad news? And surely international cooperation's been the entire bloody point of the Convocation?' 

'To fight Phlegethon, yes,' said Hermione. 'And I have been cooperating with task forces across the globe to focus our efforts as a collective magical community. But when it's come to the Council of Thorns' attacks on civilians and government, they're operating in a more strict, cell-based structure. Groups are mostly internal to a country, mostly drawing on that country's particular strand of dissatisfaction to recruit dark magic-wielding dissidents. The Convocation shares information and with that we've been streamlining policies and been able to be far more effective against the Council when they show up. But we've not been fighting them as a collective, because we've not had to.' 

'Mum was talking about a multi-national Auror division,' said Selena quietly. 'But that's only if she makes Chairman.' 

'Yes.' Albus heard the decidedly neutral tone in Hermione's voice, before she continued. 'And that won't be for weeks yet. The problem is that Thane is the first Council of Thorns target to be operating across international borders. And because he's such a _minor_ figure in the Council, or so our intelligence suggested, fallen out of grace for the loss of the Resurrection Stone, certain nations of the Convocation don't feel motivated to start letting foreign law enforcement officials have jurisdiction in their borders.' 

Albus glanced at Scorpius at the mention of Thane losing the Resurrection Stone. He shook his head, and Albus drew a deep breath and looked at his aunt. 'This is why it has to be us,' he said. 'Nobody can accuse us of working for any government. We're as familiar with Thane and his men as anybody. We're all of-age.' 

'And you said you'd help us,' repeated Rose in a low voice. 

'I did.' Hermione sank back on the armchair and pinched the bridge of her nose. 'And I will. I just hoped I wouldn't have to.' 

A tense silence fell, in which Selena shifted her feet and demurely cleared her throat. 'Did you tell my mother?' 

'I did not,' said Hermione. 'You're an adult, and I don't think I want the British Representative to the International Magical Convocation either involved in this _or_ breathing down my neck. And it would be hypocritical of me at this point.' She glanced at Rose and Albus. 'Though I'm starting to understand an awful lot more how your grandparents felt in the war.' 

'Sorry,' said Albus, and meant it. 'But we're choosing this, Aunt Hermione. We could walk away, we know that. But he needs to be stopped, and he needs to be brought to justice. I know nothing would happen to us if we went home, or just carried on with our holiday. And I know this is a choice you never _realistically_ had.' 

His aunt sighed. 'I know,' she said, then reached for her handbag and pulled an impossibly large folder from it, which she placed on the coffee table. 'So I'm about to commit a crime of showing you classified information, and _you're_ about to commit a crime by reading it.' 

Selena lifted her hand. 'I've already stolen classified information, I think we're a bit screwed on that count anyway.' 

Another sigh. 'I really can't judge.' It was starting to sound like a mantra by now. 'This folder contains everything we have on Prometheus Thane, including background, which isn't much you don't already know or haven't already seen. It also includes our information on Phlegethon, and its changes.' 

Rose squinted. 'Changes?' 

'Phlegethon was a very _slow_ -acting virus, considering its end goal. Months of transforming the living into Inferi? It makes sense that the Council's intention at Hogwarts was to make a statement, because as an attack in and of itself, it was woefully inefficient. But not any more.' Hermione's expression darkened. 'It's being changed. Improved. The transformation is quicker, the lethality rates are higher. We got to an outbreak in Georgia last week that was only a few days old to find the infected there were almost dead already. 

'There is _some_ good news,' she continued, 'in that the Council of Thorns is no longer using rituals the like of which they used at Hogwarts, so there's no perpetual infection, you don't get afflicted by simply being _in_ an area. It's the infected who transmit the illness, currently airborne. But that means no rituals to destroy, and our people can operate more freely in applying the cure.' 

She nodded at the folder. 'Technically, we shouldn't be calling this "Phlegethon" any more. The symptoms match, the end result is the same, but this is a self-sustaining virus, and considerably more virulent. The Chad government captured a Council of Thorns operative who infected an area. This new strand of Phlegethon has a new name: Eridanos.' 

Matt groaned. 'Of course that's what it's called.’ 

'I thought that was a constellation?' said Scorpius, eyebrows raising. 

'That’s Eridanus, though the names are linked. Eridanos is another of the five rivers of Hades. And was supposed to be the river that ran around the world.’ 

‘Much, as I assume, the Council want the virus to do.' Hermione pushed the folder away. 'I don't know if this information is going to be of any use to you, but it's there. I can start to put out feelers for more news on Thane now we have an idea of what he's doing and where he's going. Do you have plans?' 

Rose sighed. 'Research. Thane thinks the Chalice is still here. So we have to hunt for it, too.' 

'Then what can I do to help?' 

Matt's expression shifted thoughtfully. 'Resources,' he said. 'Information. We're operating off my bookshelf and maybe some books we can find here in Paris. In so far as my French can keep up with intense academic reading.’ 

Rose perked up. 'Matt's got a Book of Many Books, Mum. If you could hook that up to a better library than just his...' 

Hermione's eyebrows raised. 'I'll see about getting him access to the whole of the Hogwarts library. It's still the best in the country. Now. Money.' 

Scorpius raised a hand. 'Sorted.' 

'I can arrange to siphon off some of the task force's funds to support -' 

'No.' He sat up. 'That's money to help dying people. I have money. I'll fund us.' 

'That's your _inheritance_ -' 

'You know how much money was given to my family in the war. Money stripped from dissidents and Muggle-borns. You know only a tiny percentage was recovered as most of the time there was nobody alive to claim it.' Scorpius' eyes narrowed. 'Let me put that money to use for a good cause: stopping Thane.' 

'And room service,' murmured Selena. 

Hermione sighed. 'So be it. I haven't had much time to find more recent, pertinent information, but I'll keep looking. Just _stay in touch_. If we find something either end, we say. Who knows what could be valuable.' 

Albus nodded. 'Agreed,' he said. 'And... thanks, Aunt Hermione.' 

'Thank your father,' she said dryly. 'He's the one who stopped Ron coming down here to drag you all back by your ankles.' 

'We'll get this done,' he said, chin jerking up a defiant half-inch. 

Hermione didn't disagree, but a hint of sadness tugged at her face. 'I know you will,' she said softly. 'I know you're learning how to. That's part of what worries me. This generation was supposed to be the one without war.' 

'If it's any consolation,' said Scorpius, 'it doesn't look like this one's the sins of the _old_ generations coming back to bite us. We're just making up whole new problems.'

* *

'You didn't ask me to walk you across the road just to say goodbye,' Rose said to her mother, gaze wary as they reached the steps leading up to the Magical Assembly. 

'I could have,' said Hermione, brow furrowing. 'This might have been a lovely mother-daughter moment.' 

'We have those. It's called normal, everyday stuff. We don't _do_ forced platitudes, Mum. I'm not saying you don't give me enough fuss, I'm saying that something's up.' 

Both women stopped, and Hermione sighed as she glanced from Rose to the front of their hotel, a good way down the street. 'Selena Rourke,' she said at last. 

Rose's lips twisted. 'Yes, she tricked us to going to Badenheim - but she's not wrong, this needed dealing with. She might be messed up, but she _did_ lose her boyfriend to this. We can handle her -' 

'I'm not worried about handling her. God knows the young lady has every right to be upset, and to want to charge across Europe to string Thane up by his guts.' The frown remained. 'I'm more worried about her mother.' 

'Her mother's representing Britain in the Convocation - she's _fighting_ the Council of Thorns -' 

'Did you know the Convocation has passed laws which have forced policy changes in how the MLE conducts its anti-Council operations? How Legal Affairs prosecutes them? How Saint Mungo's manages medical issues? Laws voted on by all the countries participating, and these laws are _binding_ to all member states - else the nations pull out from the Convocation, and so lose the Convocation's support.' 

Rose watched her mother's expression as she spoke, and decided it would be best to tread carefully. 'Isn't that the point of the Convocation? To coordinate the world-wideresponse to a world-wide threat like the Council of Thorns? So there's the same efficiency all over, the same high standards all over?' 

'I'm not denying that. And thus far there have been no problems. But Lillian Rourke has a _huge_ amount of backing in the Convocation, which is fine when she's been championing the right causes, but concerning when she stands to win the post of Chairman in a fortnight.' 

'Don't we want someone on our side heading the Convocation?' 

Hermione drew a slow breath. 'The Chairman is going to be able to tip the scales on all sorts of votes - yes, including matters like the hunt for Thane. They will be truly influential and be able to seriously push their own legislative agenda. A legislative agenda which has the capacity to overrule a nation's own governmental decrees. As the Representative to the Convocation, Lillian's power is comparable to the Minister's. As the _Chairman_ of the Convocation, she'd arguably be the most powerful woman _in the world_.' 

Rose narrowed her eyes. 'That's sounding awfully melodramatic, Mum. There was a charter for the Convocation, rules put in place to limit its power and keep its focus on the Council of Thorns.' 

'To keep its focus on a _crisis_ -' 

'Is this because she's been able to overrule you on your task force's affairs?' said Rose suspiciously. 

Hermione straightened. 'She has dictated -' 

'Mum, I'm setting off to hunt Prometheus Thane. I don't have time for political power-plays, and this has nothing to do with Selena -' 

'This isn't about my ego,' Hermione insisted. 'My point is simple. Lillian Rourke is capable and I believe she's trustworthy but she's also _exceptionally_ opportunistic. She went from being the head of the DIMC to, as I said, one of the world's foremost witches almost overnight. And now her daughter has catalysed the international hunt for Prometheus Thane. If she can wring _anything_ out of you... she will.' 

'I don't care,' said Rose firmly. 'She can use us to make herself look good, she can paint us as villains, I don't _care_. I'm here for Thane, for justice and to _stop_ him. So long as she doesn't get in the way of that, she could be planning on sacrificing a basket of kittens for all I care.' 

'All right.' Hermione lifted her hands in surrender. 'But you won't want this hunt to become a political tool. That's all. Selena doesn't seem to want her to know what's going on; I simply encourage you to keep it that way. Now.' Her hands dropped, but only enough to come to her daughter's shoulders, warm and reassuring. 'How much trouble has that young man of yours been getting into?' 

'"That young man" - _sound_ more like you're in your seventies, Mum,' Rose scoffed. 

Hermione grinned. 'I'll take that evasion as a "plenty", then. You just be _careful_ , Rosie.' 

'International hunt for major criminal and a legendary relic! Priorities, Mum!' 

'The way _I_ remember it,' said Hermione, voice going lighter, 'life and love didn't stop in a crisis.' 

'I don't need to know!' 

Her mother laughed, and squeezed her shoulders before letting go. 'I'm saying to not get hurt. That's all,' she said, sobering but still affectionate, reassuring. 'The cause is important - but so's he. You still have to live when it's all over.' 

'I know, Mum.' Rose bit her lip. 'I only have to look at Selena to remember how bad it gets.' 

Hermione mumbled a curse she wouldn't usually utter before her daughter. 'Of course.' She shook her head. ‘You’ve been keeping up with your training?’ 

‘As much as I can. I don’t really have anyone to practice on; I’m not sure the others would be thrilled for me to sift through their brains. But I know what I’m doing, Mum. I’ve got all your lessons.’ Rose gave her a reassuring smile. ‘I’ll be fine.’ 

Her mother sighed deeply. 'I have to catch that portkey. But _stay in touch_. I'm here to help you. You don't need to hide things from me this time.' 

They embraced, then Hermione headed up the steps to disappear into the Assembly, and only when she was gone did Rose realise there had been guilt in her mother's voice. And fully understood the words "this time". 

At Hogwarts they'd kept secrets from her, secrets they'd not even kept from Professor Lockett - and not just because it had been harder to keep secrets from Lockett. Now her mother had the chance to be their tether to home again, she was hoping to be more open. To no longer be an authority figure to hide the truth from. 

It was an effort at redemption, but Rose knew she was being given a display of trust with the hope that trust would be given in return. And on the one hand, it was heartening to see this more equal treatment from her mother, to not be given the impression she was seen as a silly schoolgirl about to do something ridiculous. 

On the other hand, being treated as an equal by her mother sounded rather terrifyingly grown-up - more grown-up than hunting Thane. Hunting Thane was a strange, ridiculous impossibility the like of which had only been in her life for some eight months. Nobody else went through that. Discovering how to be an adult and be treated as such by her parents was the sort of mundane experience almost everyone went through. 

Somehow its mundanity made it more scary. 

She was still ruminating on this as she walked back down the street to the hotel, and so when she found the tall shape of Scorpius on the other side of the door inside the lobby, she almost walked flat into him. Instead he caught her wrist and she gave a yelp of surprise. 'What're you doing?' 

'Stalking you,' he said cheerfully. 'And, er, Al wanted me to watch to make sure nothing happened.' 

'Going _across the road_?' 

'Technically, going back. Technically, he also said, "we shouldn't go around on our own". Technically, this was an excuse for me to nip down here and grab you in private.' 

Rose's eyes swung around the hotel staff and guests who buzzed in and out of the building. 'Yes,' she said. 'Very private.' 

He made a face. 'We're having dinner tonight.' 

'Well, yes, one traditionally _eats_ of an evening -' 

'You're just trying to make this as awkward as possible.' Scorpius scowled. 

She tried to smother a smirk. 'Scorp, I think we're _well_ past the point of you asking me out -' 

'I'm trying to arrange a date!' he protested. 'This is a nice thing! Away from all of our fussing friends and our dramatics. You're supposed to swoon.' 

'I think I'm also past the swooning point.' But she grabbed his hand and her expression softened, gaze turning reassuring. 'Relax. I think it's a lovely idea. We could do with winding down a bit. I look forward to it.' 

'Oh. Crap.' His expression sank. 'Now I have to plan.' But his smile returned after a moment, sincere to off-set his self-effacing joke. 'And if we leave the hotel, it'll be _really_ hard for Albus to lumber in and interrupt.' 

'I don't know,' mused Rose, 'I bet one of those three could manage it.' 

He smirked, letting go of her hand and stepping away, gesturing to the stairs back up towards their suite. 'In which case,' said Scorpius, eyes dancing, 'I'm going to have to work hard to make sure we have _every_ privacy for what I have in mind.' 

Her smile in response was calm, because she fought very hard to keep it calm as she fell into step next to him. But it took a good dose of personal effort, as all of a sudden it wasn't confronting her mother, worrying about hunting ancient artifacts, or being hot on the heels of Prometheus Thane that had her heart thudding in her chest. Just as Rose had thought she had as much as she could handle, it seemed there was some new challenge - and this one was entirely more enticing than the rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Rose, Al and Matt begin this chapter at the Square du Vert-Gallant by the Pont Neuf on the Ile de la Cité, a part of it which used to be a separate island called the Ile aux Juifs and Ile des Templiers. This is, yes, a real place, and the plaque Matt reads is real._   
>    
> _Ruminations on French rulers are **slightly** erroneous. There was actually a Louis **XIX** of France, though he ruled for only twenty minutes after the abdication of Charles X on August 2nd, 1830 before his own abdication, and is as such one of the shortest-reigning monarchs ever, and Matt can perhaps be forgiven for missing this rather obscure bit of lore. However, Matt is right that only seventeen French monarchs named Louis were ever crowned, and there were only two Emperor Napoleons. Napoleon III was also responsible for the huge urban redevelopment of Paris, which is why the Ile des Roues looks considerably more dated and Medieval than central Paris - I don’t think the wizards let him fix up their island!_   
>    
> _Okay, that might not be too relevant to the story. But this chapter doesn't have many notes, and I did my dissertation on the French Second Empire. So, I have to ruminate somewhere._   
>    
> _The river Eridanos is, yes, another river into Hades, and Eridanus is a constellation. Both share certain mythical roots, and there are all sorts of stories, but the main one is to do with the myth of Phaethon. The son of Helios, the Sun-God, he bargained with his father to drive the sun chariot for a day, driving the sun itself across the sky. He lost control of the horses and when the Earth was in danger of being burnt up, to prevent this, Zeus killed him with a thunderbolt. It was into the river Eridanos that he ultimately fell, and the constellation is supposedly the path he trailed across the sky._   
>    
> _And thus do we have one of our titular references._


	11. In Black and White

'This library would be great,' said Matt as he pulled a hefty tome off the shelf, 'if it weren’t all in French.’ 

'It's not _all_ in French,' said Rose, squinting about the main magical library of Paris, a huge stone building with a vaulted ceiling and windows of coloured glass through which the bright sunlight cascaded to cast the stacks into severe shadow. 'Just most of it. Besides, I thought you could read French?’ 

Matt sighed, clambering down from the short ladder and handing her the tome. ‘It’s been a long time since I had lessons and spent holidays out here. I could probably, yeah, read a novel in French. But it would take time. To go through this much information is best done skim reading incredibly _dense_ academic writing, which is difficult enough to do in English without missing something integral.’ His gaze swept across the books. ‘And then there’s the fact that I don’t read Old French, or Middle French, or Latin. This is going to get ridiculous.’ 

'Maybe we should wait until Mum has us hooked up to the Hogwarts library?' 

'Even that won't be as good a source as looking in a Parisian library and records room for Parisian matters.' Matt's lips pursed as he shoved his hands in his pockets. 'Maybe we should ask her for a translator.' 

'And miss out on poring through these books yourself?' Rose gave him a wry glance. 'That must have hurt to even consider.' 

'A lot of things hurt these days,' he said without meaning to, and so was relieved when the voice of Selena came from the end of the shelf, sounding arch and tired. 

'Weren't you going to look at more modern stuff? Thule running around Paris and the records of those?' She was standing in the aisle like coming down the stacks would physically hurt her, as if books might reach out clawed hands to pummel her with knowledge. 

Matt scowled. 'That's even worse. Those are city records, donated diaries, planning reports - I don’t know where to start looking, and this is all in a foreign language. Don’t get me wrong, give me the right book and I’ll probably get through it in _time_ , but sifting through a dishevelled collection of city records - at least there are booksin this section in English. God knows what’s in that pile.’ 

'I don't know.' Selena shrugged. 'If I were Prometheus Thane, then I'd start by looking where the Thule Society went eighty years ago, instead of where the Templars may or may not have been seven hundred years ago. So we should look where he looked.' 

'That's lovely,' said Matt, 'except we have no idea where he looked.' 

'Unless he used this library.' 

He turned to her and ignored Rose's warning, concerned look. Upset as Selena might have been, he didn't have time for inane commentary when he had a monstrous piece of research ahead of him. 'And how, exactly, are we supposed to know that?' 

Selena met his gaze, expression flat - then she gave the faintest hint of a superior smile, and his aggravation wilted as she pressed a finger to the open register next to her. 'We check the record. Of course.' 

Matt and Rose exchanged bewildered looks before they hurried down to join her. 'The record...' 

'We signed in to get access to the building. The library keeps track of where we are. And when you take a book off a shelf, it leaves a record for it. So they know who had a book last, whether it was returned - so if someone comes looking for a specific book, they know where it is.' Selena's superior smile remained. 'Standard magic for a public library.' And there was, indeed, the title of the book _The Dark Ages of Dyfed_ written in the register, his name scribbled next to it in a facsimile of his own handwriting from the entrance book he'd signed. 

Matt had spent his childhood either wanting for nothing by way of books, or being too young to care about a public library's magic records. Then there had been Hogwarts, which used the more personal security system of a librarian nobody dared cross. Although he'd known of these record systems such a thought hadn't occurred to him, and he felt his gut tense with indignation that the one of them least interested in research had pointed this out. 

'It's not like he'll have listed himself as Prometheus Thane if he even came in,' said Matt through gritted teeth. 'That's like begging to be arrested.' 

'I could question how much a French librarian cares,' said Rose, lifting a placating hand, 'but we're talking about the public records from the 1940s. There won't be _that_ many people who accessed them over the last few days, which is our time window. If we see anyone who had a pattern of looking for Thule Society movements in occupied Paris within the last week, that's going to be rather telling, isn't it?' 

Matt had to smother the stab of jealousy he knew was unfair when he looked to Rose. It was an old feeling, this, the surge of competition that he'd never been able to shake. As a couple, before, after - they had their respective strengths academically, but he'd always felt his came from hours of hard work and hers came from sudden flashes of inspiration. She could turn her attention to any topic and master it, while he would have to graft and struggle and still come second place to her - or third, or fourth. It was one reason he'd turned his focus onto a topic such as history; brilliance could not compensate for hours spent gathering a huge body of knowledge, and she had never had enough interest to rival him. 

And now she'd trumped his most significant skill with a simple deductive reasoning that had passed him by. 

Of course, she spotted the expression that flashed across his face before he could smother it, and he received the briefest indignant glare for his sins. 

_“Stop looking like that. I can_ see _you sulking, and that's not fair just because I got a better mark..._ _”_

So many rows before they'd ended it. It had been mutual, whatever Selena said - it had been for the best, lest they ended up hating one another. 

Maybe hating one another would have been easier. 

'That's a good idea,' he said instead, and tried to sound as sincere as possible in apology. 'All right. Let's take a look. It'll get us further than me pretending to be competent going through the French books.' 

The self-effacing gibe was enough to get a flicker of a smile from Rose, the unspoken acceptance of his unspoken apology, and Selena waved an imperious hand and turned on her heel to lead them down through the library. Somehow she'd already picked up where the records section was, or perhaps she knew to zero in on the most abandoned and forlorn part of the entire library. 

These bookshelves were stacked in order - but the papers and bindings upon them were arranged by date, rather than topic or any categories. The bindings themselves indicated if these were planning records, or donated diaries, or government records, or so forth, but this would not help narrow down finding anything of the Thule Society - especially if anything had landed in the dauntingly thick ' _Miscellaneous_ ' binders. 

Matt sighed. 'We've got about five years to go through,' he said. 'Let's see who was fixated on city matters in the last few days.' 

'Oh,' said Selena. 'This is the part of research that's really boring.' 

Rose sighed and passed her the hefty book on Welsh magical history they'd found, the English language book which had looked the most promising. 'Go through this, then,' she said, 'and find the chapters and sections which might give us something on the Chalice of Emrys.' 

Selena took the book, expression flat. 'This is better,' she said, 'but in the same way that stabbing your little finger is better than stabbing the palm of your hand.' 

'Come on. It'll be fun,' said Matt, and meant it, pulling off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. 'There's going to be _so much_ in here.' 

Rose gave him a lopsided smile. 'In French.' 

'I know enough.’ _I hope._ 'Let's check the records book - simplest way is to go through person by person, you tell me which binder they got, I tell you what's in it, and we keep a tally on the topics they investigated until we get an agenda to match Thane's.' He reached to his backpack to pull out a notebook and pencil, nodding with satisfaction at the prospect before him. 

Mercifully, there weren’t a lot of people who’d gone through the records in the last few days. Some had been so obvious in their narrow agenda as to not possibly be Thane - others had browsed far and wide, and so it was through every single one of these journals they had to look, trying to discern what their research had been about before they could dismiss them or consider them a candidate. No names lunged out at him, Thane or his men sensible enough to use a discreet pseudonym, and several times Matt wondered if they’d even _been_ here, but eventually he frowned at his notes. 

‘This Dupont guy,’ he said, tapping his pencil. ‘He’s been looking a lot into local wizarding family lines, which is a bit odd, but he’s _also_ been looking over things from the Occupation. Let’s read some of these journals properly before we move on.’ 

Rose looked up from the stack of papers in her arms, and nodded. 'He seems a good bet. But there are still about a dozen binders he took out. So let's get to work.' 

It wasn't a competition. That was what Matt told himself when they hauled the binders off the shelves and set them on the table Selena had claimed, going through them page by page to try to see what Prometheus Thane, if he had indeed used this pseudonym, had sought and found. They were here to thwart his efforts and save the day. It wasn't about who found the answers first. 

Which was why Matt made sure to grab the last book this Dupont had looked in, on the principle that it was in there he'd probably found what he wanted. 

'Ugh,' he said once he saw the headers. 'This one's all about assessments of damage done to the city after the Alliance of Wizards retook Paris. There could be something buried in a single line of text here...' His eyes narrowed. 'It's at least organised district by district.' 

Rose nodded. 'Then I'll see if I can point you in the direction of the right district.' 

And the work began. Matt had to grab a dictionary, and the going was slow with his perfunctory grasp of the language. All he could do was try to get the gist of each paragraph and see if it was useful. He scanned chunks of text for references to the Thule Society, but he was only a few pages in before there was a noise from Selena. 

'I've found a part on the Chalice of Emrys,' she said, voice guarded. 'It's probably still just mythology...' 

'Anything we don't already know?' 

'I'll see.' A moment's silence as she sat there, lips moving. 'A lot about the idea of it having been created, and this book's citing someplace called Amroth as having been Myrddin's home in the period.' 

Matt's nose wrinkled. 'I thought that was a place from _Lord of the Rings_.' 

'Apparently it's in Wales. Go figure. It's talking about caves and what have you and... okay, this is really boring. Travels of Myrddin. What an enormous arsehole he was in the mythology -' Selena stopped, and squinted at the book. 

'Yeah,' said Matt. 'This is why I really hope he's not the same guy as Merlin. Or that's ruined all sorts of childhood inspiration.' He shook his head at Rose. 'You don't want to know. 

She nodded, and frowned at the page she’d just turned in her journal. 'Excavations,' she told him. 'That seems to be what he's after - that’s what lots of these books are about.’ 

'I figured. But it narrows the field.' 

'There's a mention here of the Chalice falling into the hands of a wizard called Aessin, who may or may not have been one of Myrddin's apprentices,' continued Selena. 

'I don't know this one,' said Matt, looking up. He shrugged at the glances he got. 'I've never studied the bloody thing, I just know the stories. This is exactly what we're here to find out.' 

'Apparently he used it to bring a Saxon warrior friend of his, Tancred, back from the dead.' Selena arched an eyebrow. 'This is supposed to be the first time the Chalice was used in such a way, but there's this... ugh, there's waxing lyrical here...' 

She descended into silence and so Matt let her work, bending over his dictionary to try to identify a few key words he could scan for. This carried on for some time, Selena muttering something about old English, and the moment was broken not by her, but by Matt himself as he picked up the next binder. 

‘There’s a name which keeps on popping up, or a group of names,’ he said. ‘Wizards of the Resistance - the magical contingent fighting against the occupation in general and the Thule Society in specific. There’s a branch of them who’re in about three of these books so far - it could be a coincidence, or it might be them specifically that Thane - if this even _is_ Thane and not just some local history nut - God, I don’t know -’ 

Rose placed a hand on his arm. ‘Breathe, Matt. This is our best lead. Let’s see it through before we start second-guessing ourselves. Who’re this branch?’ 

‘ _Lib_ _ération-Magique_. They seem to have been one of the major early groups of resistance fighters, though I’m not seeing any references to them in these ‘43 and ‘44 records - I’m going to stop and check out who they are.’ Matt looked at her apologetically. ‘If you think it’s a good idea?’ 

‘No, go ahead. I’m trying to find patterns, still. Which is _hilarious_ in a foreign language. This is all down to the planning permissions and - ugh, carry on. I have a dictionary, and this is about all I can do to be useful, I can’t pick out any detail like you can.’ 

‘Assuming this is even right,’ groaned Matt. He’d disregarded the books on wizarding families so far, but after scribbling down a few notes of the names he’d picked up from the references to the _Lib_ _ération-Magique_ , it was to them he turned next. 

It was long and excruciating work. Tracing names referenced back to the 1940s, trying to find patterns or determine the fate of this group in old records which had been poorly-maintained and from an era where the authorities didn’t care in the first place. So when a name lunged out at him that he recognised, it was like a gut-punch. 

‘Kerner,’ he breathed. 

Both Rose and Selena sat bolt upright, happy for any distraction. ‘He’s in there?’ said Rose. 

‘He’s mentioned in this book - he was the Thule Society officer who had a member of the group captured and executed in December 1941. A whole _lot_ of them died around then, or in the few months beforehand - not all of them have a cause of death listed, for some of them the mentions just stop. But there were about four ringleaders, three of which were dead by December 1941. One doesn’t have a cause of death listed, just his death’s _mentioned_ , and the other two were executed on Kerner’s orders.’ 

‘Who’s the fourth?’ Rose asked. 

‘A man named Guerrier. Charles Guerrier. There’s no mention of death, but records on him just dry up, and - huh.’ Matt turned another page. ‘Copy here of a wanted poster for him dated June 1942, issued by the Thule Society. So they thought he was alive by then, and still wanted him.’ 

‘Okay. So this Magic Liberation - could they _sound_ more fruity - pissed off Kerner the Friendly Ghost,’ said Selena, eyebrow arched. ‘Kerner was probably a busy man. Likely had a _lot_ of oppressing to do. Does this have anything to do with the Chalice?’ 

‘I’m ready to guess this Dupont name is a pseudonym for Thane, or one of his people, doing reading here. That their research led to Kerner is way too big a coincidence. So Thane’s people thought this group of wizards, or possibly this Guerrier guy, were important,’ said Matt, defensive. 

‘Great. What’s our lead?’ 

He scowled as he found himself with no answer, and in the end the response came from Rose, who unfolded a page of her binder to show a large plan of the city. 'Catacombs,' she declared. 'That's what he was looking for, in the end. What he wants is in the Paris Catacombs.' 

Matt raised an eyebrow. 'You're sure?' 

'Dupont’s research went through excavations from the era, and eventually he focused exclusively on those in the Catacombs of Paris. The only question is _where_.' 

'I guess that narrows the field. Look for any connection between the Catacombs and the _Lib_ _ération-Magique_ , the Thule Society, the Templars…’ 

'Paris has catacombs?' Selena chipped in. 

'Old natural caverns under the city, the south side,' said Matt, leaning back on his chair as he pondered. 'They were expanded in the... eighteenth century? I think, because the cemeteries were running out of _space_ , so they expanded and developed the caverns into a great big underground mausoleum. It grew over time and a portion of it's a tourist attraction now, but the catacombs are supposed to be huge, stretching across great chunks of Paris. The caverns are why you don't get tall buildings in certain parts - not enough ground support to build up. I went there once, couple of years back. Family holiday. The walls are lined with skulls and bones, it's a _really_ creepy place.' 

Selena was looking at him, expression somewhat more taut than he thought was necessary for an explanation like he'd given, but before he could ask she snorted and turned her attention back to her book. 'Scorpius was right,' she muttered. 'With facts like this, you must be a lot of fun at parties.' 

Matt felt heat rise to his cheeks, and he straightened. 'I don't know about Templar connections to the place,' he said, looking at Rose instead. 'So let’s see if there’s any place the Thule Society or _Lib_ _ération-Magique_ and the Catacombs show up together.' 

Rose nodded, gaze sympathetic. 'I'll take some copies of these maps.' 

They didn't speak much for the next couple of hours. Matt remained bent over his book, going through excruciating pages of a language he half-understood and finding nothing useful - and repeatedly convinced he'd missed something essential. 

It was Selena who broke the silence, voice tense. 'There are a few references in here to the Chalice of Emrys being used on the dead to bring them back. Though in every case it's only been used moments after they died, in a fight usually. Bathing the wounds and pouring water of the chalice down their throats did the trick. It even mentions a wizard trying to use it on someone dead a day, and the chalice doing nothing.' 

'Brink of death, then,' said Matt, brow furrowing. 'That would make sense. Even Muggles can do that now.' 

Selena stared at him. 'Muggles can bring people _back from the dead_?' 

He looked startled. 'In a manner of speaking. The heart stops, breathing stops, you're dead, right? But if you get the heart pumping again, then they live. We can do it with charms, have been able to for years.' He nodded at the book. 'I'd reckon the chalice would be special because it could heal the wounds that killed someone and get the body started again, even if the injury was tremendous. The charms, and Muggle medicine, are imperfect at best. But this is only if you get to them soon enough, before the body begins to degenerate too badly, before the soul has properly departed.' 

'So it's more like really advanced magical healing,' said Selena quietly, looking back at the book. 

Matt shrugged. 'Sure, if you add in an extended lifespan and magic which surpasses anything we can do. It's weird, older magic - in some ways it was so much less sophisticated, wands and staves so much less capable of interpreting a wizard's will, so personal spells were less effective, but then you have these enormous feats of power which can't be replicated today. Some scholars reckon magic was _more_ powerful back then, and it's not just that wands were less sophisticated but magic was harder to harness -' 

'I'm going to put this back,' said Selena, jumping to her feet. 'There's no more of use in it.' 

He scowled as she grabbed the hefty tome and hurried back towards the shelf they'd found it on. 'Was I _boring_ her?' he asked Rose. 

Rose sighed. 'No. You were just sat in a library explaining things enthusiastically.' 

Matt bent back over his papers. 'That makes no sense.' 

'I should -' 

She was halfway to her feet before Matt's hand shot out to grab her arm, heart thumping in his throat as words on the page leapt out at him. 'I've got it.' 

'What?' Her attention was on him now, and she moved closer, bending over his shoulder to read. 'You'll have to translate for me.' 

Her hair dangled down to brush against his ear when she leaned over the paper. He fought to ignore it. 'It's the briefest mention in a section about rebuilding work in the 14th Arrondissement - district. Somewhere near the Rue de la Tombe-Issoire, excavation work conducted by the Thule Society in the region - Kerner, again! Early 1942, Kerner had excavation work done, yes, in the Catacombs, but at this point the _Lib_ _ération-Magique_ were dead or gone and this was meant to be their old meeting place!’ He thumped his finger against the page. 'Get me those catacombs maps - and a city map, if it doesn't mark what's in relation to where...' 

Rose hurried to rustle across papers, and Matt grabbed the one of the modern city to trace his finger across the 14th Arrondissement until he found the right road. 'There, that’s the region... now where’s that in relation to the Catacombs...' 

She had that map, too, and her gaze flickered across both. 'Okay, so if there’san entrance to the Catacombs _here_ , they run down this way… so we want any tunnels which run across the 14th - there, this little network here. Or, not so little.' Rose made a face as she drew a circle with her finger around a section of the catacombs. 

' _Rue de la Tombe-Issoire_...' Matt frowned. 'Tombe - tomb? No, _fall_... what's Issoire? It might be nothing, road names come from all sorts, I just wonder...' 

'We could research.' The corners of Rose's lips twitched. ' _Or_ we could go check out the Catacombs, see if your lead's right. Good work.' 

'I just read the book. _You_ figured out we wanted the Catacombs in the first place.' 

'Team effort, then?' She gave a pleased smile which lit up her whole face. 'More than enough credit to go around.' 

'I thought you didn't share credit for your achievements?' He made sure to keep his voice light, the ribbing gentle as he got to his feet. 

'I can share credit where credit is due.' She stuck her nose in the air. 'And I could deign to allow you some recognition. You did the leg-work, after my brilliance guided the way.' 

He had to grin back. 'It did.' 

'Ahem.' They turned in a jolt to Selena, who had returned, empty-handed, to the table. 'Do I need to be here for this?' 

Colour shot to Rose's cheeks. 'We're done researching -' 

'I can see _that_.' Her expression was flat, one eyebrow arched. 'If you two are done kidding yourselves, then, do we have a lead?' 

Matt cleared his throat and picked up his jacket. 'We do,' he said, nodding. 'Or, at least, I know where to start.'

* * 

'I'm sensing we're going to spend a _lot_ of time in the next few weeks underground,' mused Scorpius as they padded down the dark corridor. 'That said, do we really think the _tourist_ district's where we're going to find artifacts of ancient power?' 

He'd been excited when Matt and Rose had burst into the hotel room, insistent they'd found a lead and that they had to go explore dark catacombs under the city. It sounded _exactly_ like the sort of solution their problem needed, and was even enough to make him less irritated about how Matt and Rose had fallen into finishing each other's sentences as they explained, Selena stood behind them and looking unimpressed. 

Excitement had dampened when Matt led them to the one entrance of the catacombs he said they could reliably access: the Muggle tourist venue. They'd paid for tickets. They'd taken the long, cold stairway down into the dark, the spiral steps winding round and round enough to make him dizzy, sunlight and life of the city left far above until they reached dim, artificial lighting. The passageways stretched on ahead, iron gates locked at certain points to corral them forwards, Muggle tourists stopping and gawping at the sights. 

Somehow he suspected Prometheus Thane hadn't come this way. 

'I don't know of any other ways down,' said Matt, lips pursing as he led the way. 'I mean, sure, there are some marked on the map, but I have no idea if they're still accessible. I _know_ this is accessible, and you know what else I know?' 

'No, but I just _bet_ you're going to tell me.' 

'I know we can _Alohomora_ any of the gates that keep Muggles out, I know there will be plenty of spots down here where nobody will see us do it, and I have the maps so I know how to get to the right section of passageways from here. _Or_ we troop around Paris looking for where we _think_ access points might be, when they could have been blocked off even if we find them.' 

'Fine, fine,' grumbled Scorpius as they turned a corner. 'It just sounds like a lot of hiking -' 

And he stopped at the sight before him. Until now they had been walking gloomy stone passageways, cold and brown, the roof rounded, the ground a mixture of paving stones and, where those had been lost and cracked to time, hard earth. But the passageway widened as they turned the corner, and now they saw the Catacombs proper. 

Matt had not been exaggerating when he talked of walls lined with skulls. He had been a little misleading, perhaps - they were not all skulls, but an array of bones set into the walls, not piled but carefully arranged as if they were parts of an intricate mosaic, evenly placed or creating a pattern. Layers of skulls lay at the top, empty eye sockets and fixed grins leering down at them. 

It was like the site of the world's most organised mass-murder. 

Everyone's jaws dropped except for Matt's, who strode towards the door on the far end of this passageway, and nodded at the writing inscribed at the top. '” _Arrete. C'est ici l'empire de la Mort_ _”_ ,' he read, voice low but carrying across the hallowed passageway. '”Stop. Here is the empire of death”. Or, perhaps, “of the dead”, I'm not entirely sure.' 

'Well,' said Selena with a sigh. Her expression had changed the least of all of them for the last hour. 'That's suitably creepy.' 

Scorpius winced. 'Are we going to piss anything off by being down here?' 

'Down this section?' Matt shook his head and carried onward. 'No. Muggle tourists come through here all the time. No indications that wizards have identified of actual hauntings. But we're going to be heading into the blocked off passageways, the ones it's illegal for Muggles to access because people get lost down there, have even died down there. There's no telling what's in _those_ sections.' 

Silence fell as they followed Matt, who had taken copies of the Catacombs maps they'd found in the library - evidently wizards cared less than Muggles if people wanted to troop underneath the city - and had picked out the best point for them to break off from the official passages. 

It didn't take too long. The passageways wormed their way along, sometimes opening up to grander segments of displays of full skeletons, inscriptions set into plaques in the walls making note of where bodies had been excavated and relocated from, the entire display a macabre celebration of centuries of Parisian dead. 

But it was well-lit, which was more than could be said for the passageway beyond the iron grating at which Matt stopped and pulled his wand. 'Nobody coming?' 

Albus looked up and down. 'Nope.' 

'Good.' A flick of the wand had the rattle of the gate's lock, and Matt swung it open, careful to avoid a noisy creak. 'Quick. We want to get out of sight before we spark up a light. No need to add trouble with the Muggles to our list of problems.' 

Bundling down a dark passageway until they reached a corner felt like a terrible idea at the best of times. It felt even worse when Scorpius knew the walls were lined with skulls and bones, and so he had no desire to reach out to steady or guide himself. Instead he settled for falling into step behind Matt, as Albus was taking up the rear, and he reached for Rose's hand. 

He pretended to himself that this was to offer _her_ reassurance, and pretended that he wasn't at all comforted by the tight squeeze of her hold. So he made sure to not sigh with relief when they rounded a corner and Albus' voice, sudden but never startling because it was _Albus_ , sounded out in the silent dark. 'We're clear.' 

'Thank God for that,' said Matt, voice hoarse. ' _Lumos_.' 

Scorpius almost dreaded the light. Sometimes ignorance in darkness was better than illuminated knowledge. But to his infinite relief, this forbidden passageway of the catacombs was no more gruesome than the well-organised tourist section. He supposed that it was in the city's best interests to keep most of it organised and not falling into disarray - and that anything else would be disrespectful. 

'We've got a way to go,' said Matt as they all lit up their wands, 'but I'd be surprised if it's more than a half-hour's walk. Assuming I'm reading the map properly.' 

'I'm marking the way,' said Rose, lifting her wand to a patch of plain stone. 'Magical marker, no Muggles will be able to see it, it'll fade when I want it to,' she added as Matt gave her a scandalised look over his shoulder. 'I'm not _carving on skulls_ , Matty, relax.' 

Scorpius couldn't tell if he hated Rose being familiar with Matt enough to call him 'Matty', or if he loved that Matt _hated_ it. It could be both, he supposed. 'So what exactly are we looking for?' 

'A Templar repository, or possibly an old meeting spot for the French Resistance,' Matt said. 

'Great. And what does that look like? I imagine it's not _obvious_ , or Muggles and other wizards and the like would go tromping in there. And artifacts were meant to have been hidden there for hundreds of years. So logically it's hidden, probably more hidden than just happening to be in the catacombs.' 

'Also,' said Rose, 'you said the catacombs were built a couple hundred years ago. We have to be looking for somewhere a good seven hundred years old, if not older.' 

'Like I said, the caverns were here all along.' Matt's voice was tense. 'Maybe the Templars built something down here. It'd be a good hiding place. I don’t know how hidden it’ll be, because the Thule Society did excavate and uncover this, but - there you go, Rose, job for you. Trace any magical signatures in the area.' 

Rose gave his back an arch look. 'Fine. When we get there.' 

They continued to troop in Matt's wake for a good while, the macabre environment soon enough becoming normal, though Scorpius reckoned he'd never think skulls would make a decent door-frame ornament. They had been silent for maybe ten minutes before he spoke. 'Nasty thought occurs. So we're following the same line of inquiry as Thane, right?' 

'That's right,' said Matt. 

'So, logically, he and his guys have been down here before us, if they found this lead two days ago.' 

'Almost certainly.' 

'Which means one of at least two things, but two options spring to mind. The first is that he beat us here, found the Chalice, and is off cackling to his masters to enhance Phlegethon or Eridanos as we speak.' 

Albus sighed. 'Possibly.' 

'The other possibility,' said Scorpius, 'is that he didn't find it yet, which means he, his goons, and his Nazi are all still in the city. Maybe crawling over this very area.' 

'That had occurred to me,' said Matt, but his voice was so tense Scorpius would bet his Gringott's account he was lying. 

'Then we'll be careful.' This was Albus, and just a few words were enough to calm the fear that had crept up at the prospect of a run-in with Thane and his men. 'We'll keep an eye out for signs of others, and we'll back off if it looks like there's someone else here. We're not going to engage.' 

'Not that I disagree,' said Matt, 'but surely we're going to _have_ to fight Thane and his men at some point, unless we get _really_ lucky?' 

'I was going to go with really _smart_ ,' said Albus. 'Thane's a tremendous fighter. We've fought one of his men, and he was a tough nut to crack.' 

'Thane was faster than Downing,' said Scorpius, awkward in this admission. He had trained himself for so long to not speak of fighting Thane, or to be evasive if he had no choice. Discussing it felt like lying by now. 'Downing was good, but Thane, he... he moves like nothing I've seen. I reckon I could have ten seconds against Downing, one on one, before he won. I didn't have two against Thane.' 

'But you're better than you were,' said Albus. 'We all are. And there's no more sure way to lose than to assume we're done going in.' 

'I like to consider it a survival tactic,' said Selena, voice wry. 'But I'm not going toe-to-toe with mercenaries anyway.' She was indisputably the weakest of them all at magical combat, though Scorpius suspected his edge only came from training hard these past few months, a greater physical fitness and, when they worked, his illusions. 

'We'll be careful,' said Albus again, and they descended once more into silence. 

'We should be getting near the area,' said Matt after another fifteen minutes, consulting his map, and Rose lifted her wand. 

'Wandering a bit might be necessary,' she warned. 'It depends on how powerful a - oh.' 

Scorpius looked over his shoulder. 'Good "oh", or bad "oh"?' 

'There's - a _significant_ magical signature down here.' She looked surprised. 'South. Head south.' 

They did so, as soon as Matt reached a turn which would lead them that way, and as Scorpius watched Rose's expression he could see the rising anticipation. 'I can't get a pin on what it is, exactly,' she said, wand still lifted, and with the distraction in her gaze he took her hand again to guide her. 'It's big, whatever it is - I don't think this is a spell, I'm not detecting the same... active working in the weave of magic.' Her voice was low, awed. 'This is something that's emanating magic. Or _has_ been.' 

'It could be here,' said Matt, eyes lighting up. 'The Chalice would emanate -' 

'Let's wait and see what we find.' That was Albus, as ever the source of reason. 

'Left again - it's near,' said Rose. 

'Look for ripples in the walls,' said Scorpius, 'or subtle changes to what you see. I wouldn't be surprised if we're expecting some sort of illusion hiding a passageway, and those kinds of flickers can be tell-tale signs of -' 

Then they rounded the next corner and found, no more than ten metres down the passageway and framed in an arch of stone, a heavy, metal door. 

Matt squinted at it. 'Rose?' 

'Um,' she said. 'I think we're close. It's getting hard to narrow down, this entire area's suffused in magical energy.' 

This section of the Catacombs was different to the passageways they’d marched through for the past half-hour. The masonry above, while worn and old, was nowhere near as old as the rest of the complex. The doorway, too, and the metal door were all made of a different stonework, and Matt cocked his head as his gaze swept across it all. ‘This has been worked on,’ he said. ‘Kerner’s excavations, do you think?’ 

Rose stepped forward, but shrugged. ‘Could be. The records implied this section was closed off a hundred years ago, though it’s impossible to say if the French opened it up or if Thule Society excavations did.’ 

Cautiously, Matt padded up to the door. It was wide and thick, the metal rusting at the hinges, but it still looked sturdy. He swished his wand at the large, hefty-looking lock. ' _Alohomora_.' Nothing happened, and Matt scowled, waving his wand a few more times and muttering under his breath. 

'Or,' said Scorpius, leaning forwards, and twisted the handle. 

The door opened with a shriek of complaint from the hinges, and Matt gave him a resentful look. 'Well, this is obviously not going to be it,' he said. 'The resting place of the Chalice of Emrys is hardly going to be behind an unlocked door.' 

'I agree,' said Scorpius. 'But I also doubt it'd be behind a door you could open with a spell a _first year_ can cast.' 

'Guys?' That was Rose, and the two men tore their gazes from one another to the room they'd opened up, illuminated by the light from five wands. 

The stone chamber was long and wide, not that dissimilar to the passageway they’d found in Badenheim. Scorpius had to wonder if the similarities in masonry were intentional, for the stone walls - plain in a stark contrast to the halls of skulls behind them - bore archways the like of which the golems had stood in back in Germany. In between the archways were bare plinths, everything simple, plain and empty. The only markings on the stone were on the wall directly in front, which had the Greek cross carved into it, two metres high, and writing directly above. 

What drew the eye, though, was the solid sarcophagus resting in the middle. 

'Bloody hell,' muttered Matt. 'What is this, a Templar burial site?' His gaze swept across the empty chamber before settling on the sarcophagus, and he took the two steps leading to it in one bound. 'It's got the cross on the lid, yeah... and a name. Reynald de Sablé.' 

'Do you know who he is?' said Rose as the four of them followed him in. 

'Not a clue. But I'll find out.' Matt's fingers traced the stone lid. 'That's weird. There's a date of birth, 1254, and the hyphen, but then it's blank. No date of death.' 

'Maybe they got wiped out before he died,’ said Selena. 

'Then why does he have a sarcophagus?' Scorpius quirked an eyebrow. 

'Maybe they don't know _when_ he died?' 

'Traditionally you'd put a question mark.' Matt looked up at them, expression creased. 'Okay, I know this is morbid, but I'm going to make sure there are no enchantments on this and then... open it up.' 

Albus sighed, wandering the rest of the broad, bare chamber. 'It's what we're here for.' 

'And, gee. A skeleton.' Selena rolled her eyes. 'Not seen, like, a _million_ of those today.' 

Rose shrugged, wand drifting about. 'I can't tell anything any more. There’s just _magic_ here. Not shaped like a spell, or a ward. It's everywhere. I can't even narrow down where it's coming from.' 

'If I were to guess,' said Matt, looking down, 'then it's from this. If there's anything on this sarcophagus, then it's masked by whatever's putting out that signature.' It was with care that he lifted his wand and murmured the incantation for levitation, with reverence that he made the lid slide its way off the sarcophagus and gently lay itself upon the floor. And it was with trepidation that he made his way to the lip of the receptacle, looked down... 

...and swore. 'Shit.' 

Scorpius raised an eyebrow. 'Nothing?' 

'Not even bones. Or rags. It's completely bare. And you don't sound surprised?' 

'Of course I'm not surprised.' Scorpius shrugged. 'This was unlocked, there are no magical protections. Anyone could wander in and have a poke. If this _was_ where the Templar golems were, where Kerner excavated, where these Resistance fighters met, then anything of value here is long gone. The Chalice isn’t here.’ 

'Then where the hell is it?' Matt stepped back from the sarcophagus, scowling, and began stalking about the tiny chamber. ‘And what the hell’s this magic _pulsing_ off the area?’ 

'What's this writing?' said Albus, nodding up at the inscription on the wall above the giant Templar cross. 

Matt stomped over and squinted up at it. 'To... damn it.' He paused for a long moment, lips moving. 'Something about - passing between life and death,' he said, before muttering to himself some more. 'I think it's something along the lines of, " _to pass between life and death takes a clear mind_ ".' 

'Well,' said Scorpius flatly. 'That's _super_ helpful.' He swept an arm around the broad chamber, expression wry. 'If this is the place, then Kerner took everything of value. Or Thane took everything of value. Either way, let’s face it: there’s nothing here.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A/N: Yet another info-dump chapter._   
>    
> _‘Dyfed’, the region mentioned in the book that Matt and Selena pick up in the library, is an old petty kingdom of Wales which ceased to exist around the tenth century. It roughly corresponds to modern-day Pembrokeshire. In the era the gang are looking to of post-Roman British Isles, Dyfed would be probably the best name to apply to the region. Aessin and Tancred are entirely fictional creations of my own, because not everything in wizarding history is going to relate to something in mythology! Matt’s furthermore a little wrong in his recollection: Amroth is a person in Middle-Earth. But it's **also** a real place near Tenby, Pembrokeshire._
> 
> _The Catacombs of Paris are a real place, a real, awesome, intimidating place. The inscription “Arrete! C’est ici l’empire de la Mort” (“Stop - here lies the Empire of Death”) Matt reads out is genuine, something anyone can see if they go on the tour. If any of you ever happen to find yourselves in Paris, check them out. They’re spooky and fascinating and well worth the time and money. They do genuinely stretch across the city beyond the limits of the tour, and portions were built into the natural caverns which already existed underneath the city, so they do stretch on for huge distances. It’s illegal to access them outside of the permitted areas - people have indeed got lost and died down there._
> 
> _Portions of the French Resistance_ did _hide out in them in WW2, and in the region of Tombe-Issoire, the old caverns that pre-dated the catacombs were used for burials for the Templars of Malta. Germans also did establish an underground bunker below the 14th Arrondissement for their own purposes. Basically, I have had to make up so **little** history and lore to justify the use of the Catacombs of Paris in this plot. I’ve just had to inject my own stuff to extant facts._
> 
> _Libération-Magique are, of course, a fictional group of the French Resistance, a magical contingent. Their name is derived from genuine groups Libération-Nord and Libération-Sud._


	12. Star-Crossed

Matt sat at the coffee table in the hotel suite and scrubbed his face with his hands. 'Book,' he murmured, 'give me _Tomb Horrors and Defences_.' 

The Book of Many Books was flat open on the table, blank pages a pale, endless maw of ignorance before him, but at his voice they shifted. Ink ebbed up out of nowhere for words to scrawl across the parchment, a tidy typeface with the title he'd requested at the top. He skimmed to the contents. 

'Hidden passages... false walls... mental trickery... 

He flipped through the pages and sank into the words he all but prayed would contain the answer. De Sablé's tomb had to be the place, had to hold the answer, and it had given him nothing. It couldn't just be that Thane had beaten them there - or if he had, there was no indication he'd uncovered anything that Kerner and the others hadn't. 

The Chalice was supposed to be there. The Thule Society hadn't found it. It hadn't even been missing, it was just not there. Professor Dresdner had presumably thought there would be something there, or Thane wouldn't have hunted the place down. All his instincts told him he was missing a piece. 

'Where are the others?' 

It was Rose's voice, but he didn't look up, flicking through pages and not wanting to lose track of what he was hunting. 'Downstairs in the bar. I think. Albus might be sending word to London. Maybe.' 

'And you're hard at work?' 

'There's something we're missing.' He buried his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes. 'I get the impression from the historical records that this tomb wasn't as easily accessible before Kerner got there. Now it's accessible, it's no big deal because nothing's _there_. So either the Chalice is, or was, somewhere else... or there's something more to that tomb.' 

'What about the writing? Bridging the gap of life and death?' 

'I should translate that better. Make sure there's no more to it. That's a good idea, thanks -' 

And he lifted his head. And froze. 

Rose stood at the bottom of the steps, hair tied up in the way he knew meant she was _really_ making an effort, long strands breaking free to tease the back of her neck. She wore a dark blue dress that was elegant in its simplicity, close-fitting and low-cut but of a colour and style to keep attention on the dress itself, and her, rather than where the clothes _weren't_. 

Though this was also a diverting prospect. 

'Um,' he said eloquently. 

Rose immediately coloured. 'I'm... sure if any one of us will figure it out, it's you -' 

'You're going out tonight?' he blurted, and hated himself for being so clumsy. 

She gave a tiny nod. 'Scorpius and I are going for dinner. We won't, er, be long.' 

'Well, you're allowed to be.' He was speaking too fast, he knew, getting to his feet as if this were some formal occasion. 'You should go. Have fun. I think we're not going to get enough of that overall.' 

'Yes. Well. I will. Scorpius is down at the bar, so... I'm going to... go...' Rose gave him an embarrassed smile and headed for the door. 

Something surged in Matt's chest. 'You look great,' he croaked. 

She paused at the door, bashful. 'It's the only nice thing I packed, I threw it in... you know, just in case, so -' Then she stopped, realising she was babbling, and ducked her head. 'Thank you. You... have a good evening, Matty.' 

He managed to not flinch. 'Yeah,' said Matt, throat dry. 'You two have a _great_ evening.' 

It wasn't that he didn't mean it, he reasoned to himself as she left the hotel suite. It was that he did mean it, he just might _also_ want to stab himself in the eye while he was at it. With a groan he collapsed on the futon, head again buried in his hands, but frustration this time was miles away from the tomb of Reynald de Sablé. 

He was in serious, serious trouble. 

Long moments passed before he moved. Long moments in which he could imagine Rose sweeping downstairs, Scorpius there and probably dressed up like a peacock, there to smile and say the right things, to sweep a girl off her feet like he could do so effortlessly. And Rose would smile and blush with nerves _he_ could never instill in her, then they'd be off, Scorpius paying for somewhere swanky, dinner and wine and dancing and then back here to the hotel and the room they could share in private - 

Matt shot to his feet, heart thumping in his chest. _I need to be not here._ It wasn't so much that he expected Rose and Scorpius to stumble in through the door in a tangle of locked lips and fumbling limbs at any moment - they were doing that enough in his head already - but this imagining was only going to become more vivid the longer he was alone. 

He barely remembered to secure his book before he staggered out of the suite and down the stairs. The ornate decorations of the hotel, all polish and style a hundred years old, were now more like a mockery than a luxury. Malfoy money, for pleasantries that felt far, far beyond reach, beyond him. 

Like her. 

His footsteps rang out across the lobby, quiet at this time of evening, before he fell through the double doors into the hotel bar. It was like tripping into a hole of mahogany and red, music tinkling across the room from a piano in the corner that played itself, and right then it was almost empty. 

Almost. 

Matt collapsed onto the bar-stool next to Selena and squinted at her glass. 'I don't know what that is,' he said, 'but it's got an olive in it so I want one.' 

Selena looked pale, tired, and now surprised, but her mask of airy disinterest slipped back on. 'You crave olives?' 

'I crave a drink that _needs_ an olive in it,' said Matt. He'd shared a room with Willoughby and Hedley in his fifth year; booze happened to every young wizard at some point in their life, especially if they lived with two of Hogwarts' greatest menaces to discipline. It had been fun, and funny, and he'd had a headache the next morning, but right now a headache was guaranteed. Fun was not, so he'd paw for that wildly. 

She didn't argue with this and lifted a finger to the bartender. 'Another martini.' 

'Martini,' he said. 'I know this drink. James Bond.' 

'I'm pretty sure the bartender's name is Louis -' 

'Never mind.' Matt rubbed his eyes. 'Why are you sat down here drinking a martini on your own?' 

'Because Albus left to Floo London? More pressingly, why are _you_ stumbling in here demanding a martini?' 

The glass was slid across the bar to him, and he didn't complain when Selena had it put on the tab for their room. Scorpius was taking Rose out for dinner. He could afford the drinks that had to be applied directly to his sanity to cope with this. 'You were down here,’ he said, and gulped a mouthful of martini. ‘You saw them leave.' 

'And you're _fine_ , I bet.' You could bludgeon a troll to death with her sarcasm. 

Matt slumped. 'I'm really not,' he said, and to his intense distress his voice croaked as the words slid out. 

The wry disinterest fled Selena's face for concern, and she put a hand to his arm. 'I'm sorry. That's rotten.' 

'I thought we'd... I thought getting back together was inevitable, you know?' He realised how insanely like a stalker that made him sound, and had another gulp of martini. 'I mean, we broke up. But we still got on. Maybe we just needed time. With other people, with ourselves. But every time we talked there was still... spark. So I thought I'd be patient. So I thought I'd be a good guy. 

'And then she started to go out with Flynn. I mean - _Flynn_.' Matt's nose wrinkled as he remembered discovering _that_. 'I didn't know if I should feel threatened that she wanted someone more, you know... manly. Or reassured that there was no better version of _me_ around. Does that make sense?' 

'In a crazy way,' said Selena. 'I'm probably breaking the girly code with this, but I'll be honest, I don't give a damn tonight. She once described you to me as being a really good but never-ending Rubit Cube, and Hector as being like an endless string of ice-cream parlours.' 

He squinted. 'Rubix Cube? Did she mean... I'm intellectually stimulating but never stop, or did she mean she could never figure me out?' 

'Oh, the former,' said Selena. 'You're not that mysterious.' She waved a hand. 'And before you ask, if you eat at an endless string of ice-cream parlours, you get sick. That was the point she was making.' 

Matt hesitated, then drained his martini. He was going to need the fortitude for his next question. 'Then what's Malfoy?' 

Selena's expression twitched. 'A mixture,' she said after a minute. 

He slumped again, head back in his hands. 'She really likes him, doesn't she?' 

'There's no accounting for taste. Two more martinis.' Selena pushed their glasses away. 'But, yes. She does.' 

'I thought it was nuts when I heard they'd got together. I thought Phlegethon had made them crazy. And then I thought isolation had. And then I wondered, arrogantly, if she was just rebounding onto bigger and bigger pricks.' Matt drew his hands raking down his face. 'Then I realised it wasn't going away any time soon and she really did want to be with someone she couldn’t stand. But didn’t want to be with me.' 

'Don't be silly, of course she can stand him. They got past that. Extreme situations make superficial things go away, you get to... what matters.' She hesitated, but then there was another martini, and so everything was better. 'But, no. I don't think they're a fleeting thing. I don't think they're going anywhere.' 

'Except for out for dinner together. In Paris. With _his_ bank account.' 

'If he doesn't wine and dine her somewhere fancy I will be _astonished_ , and if it doesn't make her positively swoon into his arms I'll eat my hat.’ 

Matt flinched. 'You're a very honest person. Please stop.' 

She shrugged and sipped her martini. 'What're you going to do?' 

'What the hell can I do? Suck it the hell up.' He sighed. 'She likes him. And he's... a prick, but he's not a _bad_ guy. Bad guys don't throw themselves in the path of a raging forest troll for someone they don't even like that much.' 

'I guess there's something to this wizard's debt after all.' 

'We're doing something important. Assuming Thane doesn't already have the Chalice, assuming we're not too late. It's hardly time for me to be a child. And even if it _weren't_... she likes him. She's happy with him. End of.' He smacked his palm on the bar. 

'It is,' said Selena, voice more gentle. She reached to cover his hand with hers, and gave him a soft smile. 'Doesn't mean it doesn't suck, though.' 

He returned the smile. 'Thanks. For sympathy. For listening.' His brow knitted. 'You dodged my question. Why're you down here?' 

She reached for her drink. 'I'm fine -' 

'You're not, let me repay the favour.' 

'You don't want to be in my head.' 

'I'm sorry. About Jones.' He said this while he still dared, and was rewarded with a flinch. 'I didn't really know him. But he was a hero. And... the man knew, like, _everything_. I kind of resented him for it, but it was impressive as all hell. He was a bloody genius.' 

Selena looked into her drink. 'He was.' 

'You just seemed a bit more knocked for six this afternoon than normal.' 

'I...' She hesitated. 'This is going to sound mental. But it's been a long time since I sat in a library and hit the books to research anything, let alone something important, and that combined with listening to a guy ramble on passionately about something _really_ nerdy...' A hand came up. 'Don't get me wrong. You're nothing like him. You're far too emotionally accessible and yet also cynical, and your hair's stupid. Don't read too much into you reminding me of him. There are days when _soap_ can make me think of him and I burst into tears. This one was just... new.' 

'Okay. Sorry?' It seemed like the thing to say. 'But you also sort of ran off after reading about the Chalice...' 

Now she looked away, gaze going to her drink. 'I got into this to go after Thane. And, I mean, that's still the case. But learning he's - that we're - after something that can apparently bring back the dead, except it turns out it _can't_ , not really...' 

'Oh.' He winced. 'Yeah. It doesn't seem it works like that. If it even exists. But I'm sorry, hope is... losing hope sucks...' 

'I don't need an ancient magical artifact to make me think he's suddenly going to walk through the door,' said Selena, blonde hair falling over her shoulder to create a veil between them, her voice low and pained. 'That happens all the time. Don't take this too seriously. I find ways of giving myself false hope that breaks my heart every day.' 

But she spoke with a waver, and so on an impulse he shifted his stool closer so he could slip an arm around her shoulder, awkward but desperate to do _something_ to make this anguish of hers a little bit less. 'Bloody hell,' he breathed. 'I don't know how you're even still going, _I'd_ be a blubbering pile on the floor if I were in your shoes...' He winced. 'That sounded more complimentary in my head.' 

She gave a choking laugh and looked up at him, eyes shining once her hair fell from her face. 'Don't think I'm strong. Because I'm not. I don't survive because I'm strong, I survive because there's no alternative.' 

'But you're still here. Still fighting,' he said, and a wry note tugged at his expression, along with guilt at his heart. 'While I'm whining about my ex having a new bloke.' 

'It sucks to not be with the one you love.' 

'Yeah,' breathed Matt, and lifted a hand to brush stray strands of golden hair from her face before he realised what he was doing. When he did, he hesitated, fingers curling back, his hand not moving but his touch inches from her cheek, and she didn't pull away. 

She leaned forwards before he did, but he bent down to meet the kiss. There was something lingering and yet ardent about the touch of her lips, a needy pain to the embrace as her hands slid around his neck, and he returned it with his own. Until he tasted the tears that had trickled down her cheeks, and that was enough to bring him crashing back to reality - or close enough, back to thoughts, to memories, to Rose stood in that dress before she sauntered off to meet Scorpius... 

Matt broke the kiss but didn't move back. He felt her hands slide away from him, and for a long moment he didn't dare look at her, eyes closed. 'I'm sorry,' he breathed, voice hoarse. 'That was a really stupid thing to do.' 

She did pull away, and when he opened his eyes, her face was fallen but in control. She brushed her hair from her face. 'I'm not the one you want to be kissing. And you're not the one _I_ want to be kissing.' There was an awkward silence, and she reached for her drink. 'And your hair's still stupid.' 

He looked up self-consciously, even though he of course couldn't see his own hair. 'Why do women -' 

'Because it's needlessly floppy and I just want to throw a comb at you. Gel. Or cut. I don't care.' There was an artificial tension to her gibe, but he wasn't going to complain about her deflecting the issue. 

But it wouldn't help. 

Matt pulled his stool back to where it had been, and watched her pretend to sort out her makeup with a napkin, instead of drying her cheeks and eyes. 'You're a great girl -' 

'I really don't need the apologetic pep-talk, Doyle.' 

_That_ was more sincere, and he winced. 'Not what I meant. I just meant - thanks. For listening. And for not making this awkward.' 

'Which you seem intent on re-making it...' 

'That's true.' Matt picked up his glass and drained it, feeling the martini swirling in his gut, by now leaving him warm and a little light-headed. 'Come on.' He got to his feet. 

She eyed him. 'Where?' 

'We're both sad and maudlin and I know _I'm_ going to just get worse as the night goes on. So let's fight it. We're going to find Albus. And we're going out.' 

There was a moment's hesitation - then Selena Rourke rose to her feet, expression the perfect mask of arch superiority. 'Fine,' she said, as if she were graciously doing him a favour, 'but if you try to kiss me again, we will be having _words_ , Matthias Doyle.' 

Matt quirked an eyebrow, but knew banter when he saw it. 'As I recall,' he said, gesturing to the door, ' _you_ kissed _me_ first.' 

She scoffed. 'In your dreams...' 

_No_ , Matt thought as he followed her out. Albus would not be hard to find, across the road at the Assembly, and then all three of them could try to make something fun of this evening without sinking into despair. _Not my dreams. Because in my dreams it_ _’s someone else._

* * 

'You do realise,' said Rose, trying to not laugh as they walked, the last rays of the dying sun casting them into the lamp-lit streets of Paris by night, 'I'm not making it very far _at all_ in these heels.' 

'Then it's just as well we can apparate wherever we like,' said Scorpius, voice airy and smug. 

'You don't need to impress me by taking me to a _Muggle_ restaurant, you know.' 

'You're half-right. I _do_ need to impress you,' he said, lifting a finger. 'But we're not leaving the Ile des Roues for that. We're leaving the Ile des Roues so none of those bastards can interrupt us.' 

'"Those bastards,"' she laughed. 'Even Al?' 

'Tonight? _Especially_ Al. He's the most likely to dare. And has the best record of it. So I thought I'd go some place they wouldn't find us.' 

'Which is not perhaps the best idea if a crisis arises.' 

'The way things have been going lately? I'll take the night off.' 

She laughed again, then raised an eyebrow as he checked a road name before directing them down a turn into a side-alley. 'Where _are_ we going?' 

'If I _tell_ you, it ruins the surprise.' He gave an enigmatic smile. 

Despite apparating he had brought them, for reasons escaping her, to the bottom of a hill, the roads and pavements - and even steps, it was that steep at portions - running in between older buildings, more ramshackle and homely. The buzz of tourists and locals was steady, but more relaxed than she'd seen at the park that morning or in the city in the afternoon, and as they got higher she could see the bulk of Paris spilling out below them, millions of pinpricks of light. 

They were in the north of the city, she thought, moving down roads which were narrow and cobbled, car traffic nothing to speak of. Buildings had flat roofs and white walls and were all of two or three storeys high, and clumped so close together she couldn't see their destination until they turned a corner and were there. 

The heart of the square was a small, fenced park, a patch of greenery kept shrouded in the evening gloom by hedges and tall trees, but the square's fringes bristled with life. Restaurants spilt out onto the streets, each small but uniquely styled, homely and personal. The tables on the terraces were full enough to give the square life and noise, not crowded enough to be bustle and fuss, and passers-by stopped at the park, at the artists with their easels out and racks of their wares, at the quartet of student musicians who'd grabbed string instruments and their singing voices and relied on kindness tossed into a hat to make their evening pay. 

'I'm pretty sure,' said Scorpius, glancing at one of the artists, 'that they're just hacks trying to get people to pay for caricatures. But anyway, we want that restaurant.' He pointed down the square to one whose front was painted green, the canopy over the terrace a wooden trellis across which crawled flowered vines. 'No idea what makes it different to any of the others,' he said as they got there, and all he did was give a waiter a casual wave before grabbing one of the tables spilling to the edge of the canopy, 'but apparently the food's _excellent_.' 

'Apparently - why did you -' He'd pulled a chair out for her, and this diverted Rose's confusion for a moment as she sat down. 'This isn't what I expected.' 

He beamed. 'I know. You thought I'd take us to Les Deux Mages or something, didn't you?' 

'I admit I expected something fancier. Fussier,' she amended, not wanting him to think she disapproved. 

Scorpius plainly didn't, sitting down with a flourish. 'I thought we could see real Paris. Not stay cooped up on the island. We won't be found. We won't be interrupted. We can have a nice evening. When did we last do that?' 

'Without any expectations placed on us as to what we'd be doing or when we'd be back? Never.' 

His brow furrowed at last. 'Bloody hell. I don't take care of you, do I?' 

'Don't be silly,' said Rose, letting her gaze drift to the square, watching the musicians for a moment. 'It's my fault as much as yours. Maybe more, I'm the one with the parents who spent weeks watching me like hawks. And this makes up for it, anyway.' 

'Or, it will.' Scorpius looked like he was going to say something, then the waiter appeared. Being still in a tourist-heavy part of the city made the proceedings of ordering in a foreign country _considerably_ easier, though Rose cast a glance at the wine list as Scorpius picked something, and she kept her expression clear until the waiter was gone. 

'We can split this bill -' 

'Absolutely not!' He leaned forward. 'I'm treating you, Weasley. Accept the nice things.' 

She grinned despite herself. 'But between this and the suite...' 

'I meant what I told your mum.' Scorpius looked away, brow knitting for a moment. 'My family's money might be old, but a lot of it comes from some pretty bad places. Funds taken off Muggles and dissidents in the occupation, never returned because there was nobody to return it _to_. Even funding for Death Eaters, held by my grandfather as somewhere safe, somewhere _legitimate_. My family home was used as one of Voldemort's meeting places, and I'm pretty sure people have been murdered in my dining room and wine cellar.' His gaze returned to her, abashed. 'I'm sorry, tonight's not meant to be about all that.' 

'Tonight's meant to be about us. Your family is a part of this.' 

'My family has nothing -' 

'I understand you wanting to put the money to a... better use,' said Rose gently, cutting off his indignation. 'But you don't need to act like it's nothing for you to support us like this. For you to do things like _this_.' She offered a small, reassuring smile. 

His in return was still bashful. 'That's why I did this. Any idiot can throw money at a problem. I thought you'd like to see something different. You don't get places like this in the wizarding world.' 

'And this is lovely. So I won't pester you any more on money. I'll just say thank you.' 

'I _do_ feel I've got lots to make up for,' said Scorpius after a moment's hesitation, in which the waiter reappeared with most exquisite timing to bring them wine, and they both had to pretend he hadn't said something loaded. 

So she waited until she'd had a mouthful of wine and the waiter was gone before narrowing her eyes at him. 'You have the most extraordinary habit of putting yourself down. Even when the whole world -' 

'But I lied to the world.' He grimaced. 'Didn't I? About me versus Thane. I didn't beat him at all. I was just too much of a coward to tell people what he'd really done, when it could be _useful_.' 

'I agree that knowing Thane, or maybe even the Council, _wanted_ us to get the Resurrection Stone is... perplexing,' Rose granted. 'But it doesn't change anything we're planning. Anything we're doing. And you _still_ marched into the middle of his scheme and foiled it.' 

'With Harley's help.' 

'Thane wanted you to be there on your own. You denied him that. Who knows what his original intention was? Maybe he had to roll with it, giving you the Stone. I don't know why he'd have taken great pains to get you there alone, ambushed by his people, only to hand you the Stone and send you on your way. I think it's far more likely he had to adapt to a changing situation.' She shook her head. 'This changes nothing. And it certainly changes nothing that _matters_.' 

Scorpius winced. 'I didn't want to tell your mum -' 

'Mum can stew on it for a while. This doesn't make Thane not a bad guy. If he really wanted to do good, he'd have not just given you the Stone, but told you about the ritual, too. Methuselah died because, amongst other things, we didn't know about the inner markings.' Rose shrugged. 'We already knew Thane was up to something when he didn't kill us the first two times. That there was a third muddies the waters, yes, but they were murky to begin with.' 

He nodded, took a gulp of his wine, and then - 'I hate it,' he burst out, with a fervour that surprised her. 'I hate it when the papers talk about my defeat of Thane like it was a big deal - even if it were true, they sideline Harley and his guys all the time. It's worse that it's fiction, I hate it.' 

'I know. I could tell all along - I just thought you hated it because of Methuselah.' A thought struck her, and she couldn't help but give him another small smile. 'You do realise you take people saying something incorrect but _good_ about you far worse than you take people saying something incorrect but _bad_? You were satisfied to take the story about you cheating on Miranda for _months_ , but people paint you as a hero -' 

'Except I _am_ a prick, at times. I'm not a hero.' 

Her expression fell. 'If Methuselah hadn't stopped you, you'd be dead,' she pointed out. 'You double-crossed Thane, you went into the Forbidden Forest to get Acromantula skin and would have done it on your own if I hadn't shown up. Only yesterday you grabbed Al's cloak, told us to trust you, and threw yourself in front of a troll. For someone you've admitted you don't even _like_.' Rose put down her wine glass and reached for his hand. 'I don't know if the world should call you a hero, but I know _I_ do.' 

Scorpius dropped his gaze, trying to smother a pleased smile. '...Doyle's not _that_ bad.' 

'Just yesterday you were complaining about him.' 

'He _does_ make gooey-eyes at you,' Scorpius protested, though his voice was light, confident. 'But you're right. I have nothing to worry about. It's only natural that he would find you bedazzling, and just his rotten luck that I'm such a heroic hero that _you_ are bedazzled by _me_.' 

She remembered the look on Matt's face earlier, and smothered the sense of discomfort that came with it. 'I _am_ sorry I invited him. I shouldn't have put you in that position. I'd probably hit the roof if you'd suggested Miranda.' 

'You know, I'm not even angry at her any more? I realised this when I invited Selena. I was furious for ages. Now I just... pity her. I pity that she had to go to such lengths for something so... petty.' His expression shifted. 'There are things I hate about how Phlegethon changed our lives, but the thing I _value_ is how it's made us see what's important.' 

She swallowed, throat dry as his piercing blue eyes locked on her, and for once they weren't twinkling with amusement but firm, cutting. 'Like what?' 

'Your entrées?' The waiter appeared next to them with a pair of plates, and Rose idly considered hexing him into a frog. 

On the other hand, she _was_ hungry. 

But the moment was broken, so instead she focused on her rather good goat's cheese salad. 'Mum was fussing this morning.’ She tried to not smile as Scorpius looked apprehensive. 'Not about _you_.' _Or, that's not the bit I'm talking about_. 'About Selena. Or, more precisely, her mother.' 

'Lillian Rourke?' Scorpius' brow furrowed as he refilled their glasses. 'I thought she was doing a great job.' 

'I think Mum's irate that there’s someone as interfering and competent as her on the case. She made a point, though, that the Convocation's advanced in leaps and bounds in power, and that Lillian Rourke, as Britain's rep and a possible future Chairman, stands to gain. Mum thinks she's a little bit opportunistic.' 

'While your mum is entirely altruistic bullying control of the Phlegethon task force? Don't get me wrong, I'm sure she did it because she was _worried_ -' 

'But also she doesn't trust anyone but her to do the job, yes.' Rose sighed. 'Her point was that we shouldn't let Lillian Rourke know things, in case she uses it to exploit us for political gain.' 

'If she wants political gain, she _doesn't_ want to tell the world a bunch of under-qualified witches and wizards are flouting international law and chasing Prometheus Thane.' 

'Technically we've not broken any laws. Yet.’ 

He snorted, then winced and took a sip of wine as an obvious delaying tactic. 'I apologised to Selena for yesterday.' 

'How'd she take it?' 

'In good enough grace. She _had_ been trying to pretend that she didn't give a damn about Jones.' 

'I know. I'm sorry. I thought you saw through it. Maybe it's a girl thing.' 

He stabbed a goujon as if it had personally wronged him. 'I couldn't pretend. I don’t get it.' 

'I saw what happens when she stops.' Selena's grief was sufficiently raw that remembering it was enough to send a jolt through her. It was one thing to recall her sobbing over Methuselah's corpse, horrifying though that had been. To see her so desolated months later was something else. 'I don't know how she gets through the day with all of that inside her. I think it would kill me.' 

'I think she thought that, too. People can survive a lot.' His lips twitched, and he cocked his head to the side. 'Like this music.' 

She had to laugh at that, and the tension of the moment was broken, bringing them from the suffering of their friends and back to Paris by night, and all of the pleasantries it brought. Good wine. Good food. The only company she wanted. 

He'd found the place in a guidebook, he admitted bashfully, having trawled the streets of Ile des Roues when the others had been in the library. The restaurant had been recommended as somewhere wizards could find without too much difficulty, where the food was simple but local and high quality, and where a lump sum of a certain amount of money would cover the bill and still bring change, without having to fuss about conversion rates. 

He didn't let the evening drift back to serious topics as they ate. He teased about the world tour without discussing chasing Thane, pointed out when one of the musicians was a beat later than the others and then laughed when it became distracting. They talked school, the prospect of going back, how he was finding living with the Potters - normal, everyday things. 

Like they were two normal people out for a normal evening meal, instead of locked possibly into a deadly hunt where they could only _hope_ they were the predator. 

They were in no rush to finish the evening. With food done they could enjoy a flow of drinks, the square getting quieter as night drew on, able to sit and talk for as long as they liked, but within an hour of their plates being taken away Scorpius deposited a pile of Muggle money on the little tray, muttered something about being generous with tips, then got to his feet and extended a hand to her. 'A walk before we go back?' 

'And see more of the city? How could I say no?' 

The buildings were thick enough that turning a couple of corners down cobbled roads meant the square was blocked from sight and sound within moments, as if they were cut off from the rest of the world. Just the winding roads, the view stretched out before them of twinkling lights over the rooftops of the city, and him. 

So she winced before she spoke. 'There's something I never asked you.' 

She felt his hand twitch under hers. 'Sure?' The levity in his voice was forced. 

'You can tell me to sod off,' she said. 'I just - I never asked - and you never said - what happened to your mother?' 

In the lamp-lit gloom she could see him wince when she looked up, and he stopped at a street corner, shoulders tense. 'My father drove her off,' he said, then hesitated, looking away. 'They were married when - my father had this period, after the war, of _not_ being an arsehole. He travelled, worked in Europe for a bit, married my mum, I was born - and then my grandfather died. And suddenly my father had the family name and wealth and I think he wanted to redeem it. Do something with it. So out with the old money and the idle rich, and in came the investments. The business. And, inevitably, the political influence to get the best contracts, to make sure laws like your mum pushed through didn't stifle him, and it... ate him, I think. 

'I don't remember him being a decent bloke. Or a not-a-shit. I only have what I've guessed and heard. I _do_ remember the rows with him and my mum. Him not being around enough. Him being cold and detached, or domineering. He wanted home, Malfoy Manor, to be perfect and run just the way he wanted it - but wasn't around to do it. Family became something to make him look good to the public, not to devote time to. And whatever affection had been between them fizzled out as my mother refused to be a trophy, and he knew less and less how to not treat us as something to make him _look_ good, then take his anger out on us when...' 

His voice had grown more and more tense until he looked away, jaw tight, and she stepped in to bring her hands up to his shoulders, letting him speak but keeping close. Eventually he shrugged. 'Yeah. She couldn't take it any more, and left him. Three, four years ago.' 

Her thumb stroked the corner of his jaw. 'I didn't know. I'd pieced bits together. I'm sorry.' 

He shook his head. 'Don't be. You didn't do it.' Another hesitation. 'I've not heard from her in months. Apparently she's fine. She's just not got in touch.' 

'I'm sure there's a good explanation,' Rose lied. Now was not the time to speculate on Astoria Malfoy's lifestyle and motivations. 

He nodded - then grinned suddenly, a joke to divert and distract. 'You keep this up, Weasley, and I'll be all out of secrets.' 

She gave a falsely sombre nod, content to play along. 'Maybe, but I'm sure you'll find a new way to make yourself intractable.' 

'I'm positively _open_ and _cooperative_ these days -' 

'You disappeared under an invisibility cloak and just said "trust me". That's not a _plan_ , Malfoy, that's barely even a _concept_.' 

His brow furrowed with mock-indignation. 'Wait, you didn't know what I'd had in mind, and you dropped a tree on me _anyway_?' 

Albus had figured it out, but then, Albus knew better than her what Scorpius' combat capabilities were, and had anticipated the illusion. She shrugged. 'I figured it was a win-win situation.' 

'A win-win - I'll have you know that this scheme was one of my _best_.' 

'It's brighter than the magical blasting guitar, I grant you.' 

'I broke you out of the Headmaster's Office with that!' 

'Technically, Methuselah broke us out of the Headmaster's Office. Technically, you just committed a large amount of property damage.' Rose had to smother a smirk as his look of mock-indignation grew. _I've missed this,_ she realised to her own surprise. Bickering with him made the world shrink to this narrow tunnel of verbal strikes, parries, ripostes, of their joint indignation and amusement - and there was nothing, nothing more serious in the world in those moments than winning the row. 

The world could burn so long as they could both get off one more retort. 

His next retort was the best, the row settled or at least shelved when he stepped forward, tilted her face up to his, and kissed her. And the world narrowed even more, to nothing more than the feel of his lips on hers, his arms pulling her to nestle against him, the pounding of her blood in her ears. But before she could summon a reaction, move in any way other than letting herself be helpless in his embrace, he broke the kiss. His nose brushed against hers, close enough for their breath to mingle. 'Fine,' Scorpius whispered. 'You win.' 

She wanted to summon a clever retort, but there were none left and her lips were tingling and cold for his absence. So all she could do was mumble incoherently and drag his head down to hers, fingers entangling in his hair, the kiss needy, ardent. She'd watched him disappear under a cloak and go into danger she couldn't see. Watched him get slammed into a wall and choked by a golem. Watched blood well up from his leg from a wound she'd feared fatal. And this was just in the past two days, and she'd had so few opportunities to grab hold of him and remind herself that he was here, real, flesh and blood and _hers_... 

A low noise escaped his throat, and the next thing she knew he'd backed her up against the nearest wall, pinning her there with his weight, and she was of no mind to resist. There was nobody here to interrupt them, judge them, nobody expecting them at a certain time, no propriety to observe, and instead of the apprehension that had once boiled in her gut at the free-falling abyss below them, insecurity was gone and all she wanted to do was tumble with him. 

She had to turn her head to the side to break the kiss, and his lips trailed along her jaw, making her shiver. 'We should get back,' she said, once she'd found her breath enough to make coherent words, but her fingers curled a fistful of his shirt when he hesitated. 'The hotel. We've got a room. Take me back.' 

She wanted to be clear. This was not a request for him to stop. Quite the opposite. 

His eyes were wide and dark when he pulled away, chest heaving. It was like the stars were spinning overhead, or perhaps her head was, intoxicated by the wine - only enough to take the edge off - and the feel of him - enough to leave her staggered. 'Right,' he rasped. 'You're sure? I didn't do this to - to pressure you -' 

Her fingertips came up to his lips, and she smiled a crooked smile. 'I said you'd be in trouble some day.' 

Scorpius didn't smile, gaze deadly serious as he pulled back, grabbed her hand, and cast his gaze about for a street to safely apparate from. The part of Rose's brain that could still think coherently tried to not laugh that she'd let him kiss her like there was no tomorrow and not care if anyone was watching, but magic was still business. 

She let him handle the apparition, even if it was a bit wonky, and the next minutes passed in a blur. Stumbling, laughing, out of an alleyway on Ile des Roues. Falling into the hotel lobby and trying to look less like flustered youths desperate to get back to a world of privacy. Creeping into the suite and concluding, with a satisfaction she couldn't quantify, that the others were indeed out. 

His lips were back on hers even as they staggered to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them, and she gave up on balance to let them tumble onto the bed in a frantic, thrilled pile. Falling and flying, thought that coherent part of her, were feeling remarkably like one and the same. She might have been apprehensive before - but that was lost in the wind with his hands on her, teasing the fabric of her dress, her lips parting under his with eager invitation. The only apprehension she could remember was _his_ , his doubt of her, of them, and all that was left was the burning need to remind him that she'd made her choices, and she'd chosen him. Them. This. 

Breath caught in her throat as his kiss trailed along her neck to her shoulder, fingers slipping off the strap of her dress as his other hand slid down, finding bare skin at her knee, her thigh. She reached up with desperation, fumbling at the buttons on his shirt, his skin warm and firm under her touch. 

There were times she thought she knew him inside and out, even if he didn't say everything, but before them rolled whole new vistas of discovery. Her only regret was the question of how much could be found in one night, because waiting for the next moment was racking enough already. 

Her fingers found his belt buckle, tugged it undone, teased - 

‘Rose -’ Then his breath caught, and his lips tore from hers - then her hands were empty and he was pulling away, leaving only cold. And nothing, and for thudding heartbeats Rose lay there on the bed, no longer in a tumble of them both but alone, and with her head spinning it took her a moment to realise that he hadn't just vanished into thin air but pulled away. 

She sat up, blinking reality back in, hair wild and one strap dangling off her shoulder. 'Scorpius?' Her voice was hoarse, bewildered. 

He was stood at the foot of the bed, shirt off, a hand in his hair, eyes wild. 'I - I'm sorry,' he croaked, and lifted his free hand. 'I can't - I'm sorry - I better -' Not five seconds ago he'd been kissing her like he never wanted to stop, but now he grabbed his discarded shirt and tore for the door like he couldn't get away fast enough. 

'...what...?' But he didn't stop, and she couldn't stop him, and he closed the door behind him, leaving her alone in the bedroom, cold from the sudden loss of his closeness, his warmth, and from the remains of their evening together suddenly and inexplicably turned to ashes.


	13. Shot in the Dark

'I'm sure there's a good reason you're not killing them,' Saida lied. 'I just don't see it.' 

Thane leaned on the railing of the balcony that overlooked the Parisian bar's ground floor. 'My dear, you can be so predictable,' he sighed. 'Have you tried solving problems _not_ by killing people?' 

Her nose wrinkled. 'That's not what you pay me for.' 

'You sell yourself short. You are intelligent and you are capable, and thus you are perfectly competent when it comes to finding alternate solutions to problems. You also forget to whom you speak.' Thane turned to her, though his eyes never left their targets, not even a crowded room and an intense conversation enough to distract him. 

Saida's expression flickered. 'You know it's easier.' 

'What is? To kill someone? Or for you to pretend that killing is all you are capable of?' She didn't answer, which said enough. A languid hand was waved at the three youths sat around the table in the corner of the room below, oblivious to their presence. 'If you kill someone then they are gone, gone forever. Even only being professional I would tell you that they are no more use to you, they can never again be a tool or a source of information. If you have any option other than to kill, then take it.' 

'Then why did you kill the professor?' She knew the answer, but she didn't always appreciate him crawling around inside her head. 

'That is an example of how I had no options. Not for him, nor his assistant. They were dead the moment we abducted them.' 

'You could have released them.' 

'I had to kill the girl to break him and make him talk,' said Thane, turning away from her to watch their three would-be hunters. 'And when he had talked, he had to die. What else was I to do? Release him, so he could tell the Convocation what I wanted and how much I knew? Even if I obliviated him, there are means of recovering such memories. I could have broken his mind entirely, I suppose, but I would not consider that a great kindness.’ 

‘You care about the kindness?’ 

‘I care about needless cruelty. And you do, too. You’ve tasted it enough to be too good to turn it on others.’ 

She flinched. 'It's not like the information from the Professor was of great use.’ 

'It will be,' said Thane, 'because I will _make_ it of use. Which is what brings us here. To them.' He nodded at their targets. 

Saida turned a critical eye on them. The blonde girl, the thin dark one, and the other, the hero's son, the only one who carried himself like both a man and someone who could handle himself. 'Three children.' 

'They're hardly younger than you.' 

'All of them from good families and good upbringings in nice, happy, safe Britain,' she spat with a venom she'd only show in front of him. 'What do they know of cruelty? Of scrabbling desperation to survive?' 

'I believe they will have a crash course in such matters soon. But do not underestimate them. They survived Hogwarts.' 

'Only because you _let_ them.' 

Thane sighed again. 'What do I gain by killing them?' 

'You eradicate a nuisance -' 

'You have implied already that they are no threat to me. So which is it? Are they worth destroying as a danger, or are they gnats not worth my time?' She was silent and he gave a thin, humourless smile. 'This goes one of two ways. Either they stumble about Paris and find nothing, in which case they're no danger, no problem, beneath my notice. Or they pick up the trail, in which case I can _certainly_ make use of them. Killing them will either draw more attention than I want, or it will remove players from the table I might be able to _use_. Now. Stop being arrogant, and tell me what you see.' 

He did not often speak to her like he was her elder. Like he was her better, yes, but she knew and accepted this. The admonishment stung even though she didn't like to admit it, and Saida exhaled slowly. 'This is the worst luck,' she grumbled. 'To watch only three, and it includes the one who _wasn't_ at Hogwarts and their least significant member?' 

'That makes them worth watching, no?' said Thane. 'There's an unknown factor about them both.' 

'The girl's only value is that she's Lillian Rourke's daughter. Doyle - he _is_ a schoolboy. The only one who makes me curious is Potter.' Her eyes narrowed as her gaze settled on the burly form of Albus Potter. 'Downing described him as the ringleader, but he's not running them through brute force or even dragging them with sheer personality. He's hesitant. But they listen to him anyway. I don't know if that speaks ill of them, or well of him. I would assume the former, but then I remember that he broke Downing's arm.' 

'I assume this means you like him.' 

'It means he's _not_ just a schoolboy. And so it means I'm not going to underestimate him.' Saida shrugged. 'I'd have to see him with the other two to evaluate more. Weasley's the one who worked with Lockett. Malfoy's the one who got the Stone.' She glanced over, watching Thane's expression. 'You have an interest in him.' 

Thane gave a thin, crooked smile. 'A curiosity. No more. I won't lie, it's an indulgence. To see what a Death Eater's grandson can do in a crisis, and he's got guts.' 

She sighed. 'Sometimes little rich boys are just little rich boys, and no more. Don't look for meaning that's not there. Similarity that's not there.' It wasn't often she gave him advice, or anything which sounded like criticism. But she had earned the right to do so, and was so sparing with it he tended to listen. Still, it wouldn't do to push it, and as he nodded, she spoke on. 'What do you expect them to do?' 

'I don't know. Maybe nothing. They've run into a brick wall - ha, literally.' He smirked. 'I don't know if they'll find the same lead we did.' 

'If you really want to use them, give them a helping hand.' 

'If I really want to use them, they need to be good enough to not _need_ a helping hand.' 

Silence fell upon them, and she had to accept the topic was over. She continued to watch the three, watched them pile on drink after drink. She couldn't understand it. They'd been foiled in their hunt, after doing so well - remarkably well, she had to concede, she was surprised they'd survived Badenheim and got on their trail in the first place. But now there they sat laughing and joking together as if time wasn't of the essence, as if they didn't have the impossible before them. 

She didn't know if she envied them their capacity to switch off, or thought them stupid for doing so. 

Saida cleared her throat. 'Have you heard from Downing?' 

'Yes. He and the others are settled, and everything's going ahead. We have a week to wait, maybe. Maisson's being as cooperative as he ever is, but he'll get a cut of the proceedings so he's satisfied.' 

'So they have a week to find us. Or you're going to need a new plan.' 

'I have several plans. These five are just one of them.' His tight smile remained as he straightened. 'I should head south, or Downing will upset Maisson and this entire venture will fall apart. _Watch_ them. But don't be seen.' 

She gave him an indignant look. 'You hardly need to tell me that.' 

'This isn't about their movements. Those are easily kept track of. You have to _know_ them, Eva. Or this will never work.' 

'Again, I know what I'm doing. You've trusted me before. Trust me now.' 

'Only if you trust that this plan _is_ a wise one. I'll see you tomorrow,' he said, and barely brushed past her as he stepped into the crowd of the bar, working his way through the throng of people towards the rear entrance. 

Even someone of her expertise had lost him in seconds as he faded into the masses like he'd never been there at all, and Eva Saida sighed. Watching children in a bar to make sure they weren't anything she couldn't handle was not her idea of the best use of her skills. 

But she still leaned on the railing and looked down to watch Albus Potter, Matthias Doyle, and Selena Rourke on their night out in Paris anyway. Because she knew better than to question orders or schemes of Prometheus Thane.

* * 

‘I’m not drinking anything that’s on fire,’ said Albus. ‘And that’s final.’ 

‘Give him vodka,’ hissed Selena to Matt across the table as if this were the most discreet means of conversing ever invented. ‘Then he’ll agree!’ 

Matt considered this. Then he pulled three shot glasses from the array on the table to him, two of them empty and a third gleaming with a green spirit that was the product of Selena fluttering her eyelashes at the waiter and saying, ‘surprise us.’ He only hoped it wouldn’t make him go blind. ‘I need cups,’ he said. ‘Selena, make the cute French waiter bring us cups.’ 

She eyeballed him. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to ask him yourself?’ 

‘That’s what you called him! That’s his name now!’ 

Albus buried his head in his hands. ‘I’m so glad I’m here,’ he groaned. ‘I could have been enjoying a nice night.’ 

‘Doing _what_?’ scoffed Matt. ‘We’re in _Paris_. We’re supposed to enjoy ourselves. We _could_ go somewhere of cultural significance, but today I’ve been to a park that’s _also_ a memorial of historical importance, one of the biggest magical libraries in Europe that I could even _mostly_ understand, and a hidden Templar tomb in ancient catacombs. How much more culture are we supposed to cram into a day? Now, pick one of my hands!’ 

Albus looked between Matt’s two hands, one obviously cupped over air, the other obviously cupped over the full shot glass. ‘ _Why_.’ 

‘Just pick one!’ 

‘That one.’ Albus tapped the hand which covered air. 

‘Wrong!’ Matt beamed, and moved his other hand to reveal the full shot glass. ‘As a forfeit you have to have a drink.’ 

Albus peered at him. ‘If I’d picked the other hand you were going to call me a winner and tell me to have a drink, weren’t you.’ 

‘ _Yes_.’ 

‘…I’ve just been out-manoeuvred by a guy who can’t even _spell_ that word right now.’ He groaned and reached for the shot glass. ‘Fine. Bottoms up.’ 

When Matt had downed his first glass of something called Inferno, he’d coughed and sputtered and thought he would die. The mysterious green ‘surprise’ shot went down Albus’ throat like it was mellow and mild, even if its smell had promised vindictive death. Albus carefully placed the glass back on the table and smiled. ‘It’s tasty.’ 

Selena lowered her head to peer at the glass. ‘I think Cute French Waiter was having us on.’ She slid another glass full of the green spirit over towards Matt. ‘Now, stop being a pansy and drink it.’ 

‘Making me go before you, though. Who’s the pansy?’ Matt rolled his eyes and poured the shot down his throat. He was confident in his capacity to out-drink Albus, who’d always assumed an air of long-suffering disinterest on the topic of booze, especially when it had been drinks smuggled into school last year. He doubted the other man drank a great deal - not that Matt himself did, but he’d been dragged into Hedley and Willoughby’s boyish dares to drink Firewhisky without flinching. He could handle anything Albus Potter could. 

When the spirit hit the back of his throat, it _burned_ , and he coughed, sputtering and desperate. Selena burst into a loud, gleeful cackle, slapping her hand on the table. Matt flailed and Albus, to his eternal gratitude, pushed a glass of water into his hand. But he was grinning, and Selena was laughing, and as Matt chugged water and soothed the searing in his throat, he had to concede that it was worth it. The ice was broken. 

They’d picked this bar because it was on the water-front, which Albus had pointed out meant they were more likely to fall in the Seine and drown, but Selena had liked the painting of the black cat that covered the entire outside wall. It was busy with a young magical clientele, welcoming, with free-flowing drinks. For what was everyone’s first time going out for a night on the town to drink, now they were legally of age, it was ideal. 

‘Fine,’ said Albus. ‘Get Sexy French Waiter to bring us some flaming shots. You clearly need to be taught how to do it.’ 

Matt coughed. ‘Cute French Waiter. You just upgraded him.’ 

‘We should tell him,’ said Selena, eyes lighting up. ‘He’ll be ever-so-pleased. I think he was admiring your arms more than he was admiring me, anyway.’ 

Albus gave a melodramatic flex. ‘Can’t blame him.’ He quirked an eyebrow as they laughed. ‘You two seem _pretty_ intent on drinking, though.’ 

‘Who, me? I just want to see Doyle set himself on fire.’ She assumed a gaze of mock-innocence. 

‘Apparently I’m here to amuse. And… I don’t know what else to do,’ Matt admitted. ‘We found the tomb. It told us _nothing_.’ 

‘We’ve only been at this a day,’ said Albus. 

‘I know, but - I mean, did Thane find the place? If he did, did he find something we didn’t? Did he find the Chalice? Did he find some other lead?’ Matt curled his fingers in his hair. ‘Templars get the Chalice _somehow_ out of Wales. Still not sure about that. They took it on the Crusades, _apparently -_ then they took it back? Then they hid it in Paris when the Templars fell, to stop it from falling into the wrong hands. _Then_ it stays in Paris for six hundred years until the _Nazis_ show up, the Thule Society dig for it, but they don’t _find_ it -’ 

‘Oh my God, if he keeps this up I will set _myself_ on fire,’ groaned Selena, waving a hand in the air to try to get Cute French Waiter’s attention across a crowded bar. ‘Al, if he doesn’t spot me, stand up and take your shirt off.’ 

‘So why don’t they find it? Maybe it’s not in Paris. But Thane thought it was. So either it _is_ in Paris, _or_ he has a clue where it is, _or_ he’s hit the same dead end as us -’ 

Selena whimpered and picked up her last shot glass to try to lick it clean. ‘I don’t want to talk about the chase. I want to be in Paris with flaming shots and sexy waiters.’ 

‘So we’re drinking because we can’t figure out our next move.’ Albus sighed. ‘Great plan.’ 

‘More productive than Rose and Malfoy’s plan to have _lots_ of sex,’ Matt spat before he could stop himself. He shrugged as they both side-eyed him. ‘Come on. We all know that’s what they’re doing.’ 

Selena checked her watch. ‘It’s ten o’ clock. I should hope not, or that’s going to be a _very_ awkward restaurant.’ 

Albus squinted at him, then his expression cleared. ‘Oh, I get it.’ 

‘No!’ said Matt indignantly. ‘You don’t! I’m fine! Oh good, those drinks are on fire!’ 

And the waiter was, indeed, coming over with a tray bearing three double shot-glasses that glimmered with a magical blue flame. Selena grabbed hers and elbowed Albus as the waiter left. ‘He winked at you.’ 

‘He’s got good taste,’ he said, and looked at his glass. ‘So how do we drink this?’ 

‘It’s not _actual_ fire,’ said Matt. ‘It’s an illusory fire, but it’s made to also _feel_ like fire.’ 

Albus squinted. ‘That’s a difference which sounds less and less important by the second.’ 

‘It doesn’t just trick our eyes in how it looks, it also tricks our senses for it to feel, just a little bit, like burning. Without _really_ hurting or doing us harm. It means we actually get to drink flaming shots, instead of those pansy Muggles who have to blow theirs out.’ Matt hefted his shot glass. ‘Here’s to - wait. What’re we drinking to?’ 

‘Making it home in one piece?’ said Albus. 

‘You’re so boring. To the next bar,’ chirped Selena. 

_To waking up in the morning and not caring what Rose and Scorpius are doing_ , Matt thought to himself, and slammed the drink back. 

The false sense of fire lasted only a moment. It wasn’t pain - it was like an explosion in his mouth, like he’d swallowed flame along with the drink, and the warming sensation that ran through his body was euphoric as much as it was shocking. He gasped for air, the sober part of his brain still capable of intellectual thoughts marvelling at an illusion which could be felt as well as seen, even if this was something small and simple. 

‘There’s only one problem with these,’ he said, once he could speak again, and set his shot glass down. Selena was clawing at her throat, and Albus had snorted smoke. ‘The more drunk you get, the less effect they have. Because as your senses get numb and your brain gets slower, the more sophisticated parts of the illusion - your capacity to feel it - don’t work properly, and…’ Realisation was like another shot, bright and sparking in his brain, and Matt sat up, eyes wide. He slammed his fist on the table. ‘Oh my God,’ he said. ‘I know what we have to do.’ 

Selena coughed again. ‘Have another drink?’ 

‘Exactly!’ he said. ‘Well, sort of! I know what that writing on the wall meant!’ He got to his feet quick enough to knock the stool over, but though he was light-headed, it only took him a moment to right himself. This wasn’t enough. 

She arched an eyebrow. ‘The Templar tomb told you to get shit-faced.’ 

‘Yes!’ He stabbed a victorious finger in the air. ‘I’ve got a plan to find the Chalice of Emrys. We just need Sexy French Waiter and a bottle of whisky!’ 

As it was, the Sexy French Waiter could not help them with the Firewhisky, because to take it off the premises would fall foul of licensing laws. So they were driven out into the streets of the Ile des Roues, and Selena gesticulated wildly at the local boys until they found a shop where a thoroughly reluctant and dubious Albus purchased them a couple of bottles of quite dreadfully cheap booze. 

‘Don’t worry,’ said Matt, taking them off Albus once he stepped back into the street. ‘This is to _save the world_. Now apparate us to de Sablé’s tomb.’ 

Albus quirked an eyebrow at him. ‘What do you have in mind?’ 

‘You’ll see. Just trust me. But - I might splinch us to hell and back if I try to get us there.’ 

‘But you _do_ want me to let you poke around an ancient Templar tomb while _drunk_?’ 

Matt lifted a finger. ‘I’m not drunk. I’m _merry_. I _will_ be drunk. But don’t worry. That’s the plan. And besides - either there’s something there, in which case, trust me, I’ll find it. Or there’s nothing there and at worst I stumble around in the dark drunkenly.’ 

‘Actually,’ said Selena, watching the comings and goings of a Friday night in the streets of magical Paris, ‘at worst you either find nothing magical but trip and smack your head in the dark, _or_ you trigger some sort of ancient Templar trap and get your drunken face blown off.’ 

‘Merry face,’ said Matt, planting a hand on Albus’ arm. ‘Come on, Potter. You know you want to see what will happen.’ 

Albus rolled his eyes, then drew his wand and with his free hand reached for Selena. ‘If this goes badly,’ he said, ‘I’m leaving you in the dark to die.’ 

‘Totally -’ 

But then the air was whipping around Matt, magic twisting and warping him and the world to catapult him through space instantaneously. He’d apparated before. He’d side-along apparated before. He’d never done it when _drunk_ , and emerging into a pitch-black space of nothingness was enough to have him stagger and fall flat on his back, hitting the cold paving stones of the Parisian catacombs hard. 

‘ _Lumos._ ’ That was Albus, and then there was light. 

Matt groaned as he sat up, still cradling the precious bottles of drink. The tomb of de Sablé was as it had been found earlier that afternoon - dark, expansive, the alcoves which had once held the golems and treasures of the Templars gloomy and bare. And on the far wall, there it was, the writing which he knew could hold the key to everything. 

_Bridging life and death is only for the clear of mind or pure of heart._   
  
He wasn’t pure of heart. But he could be clear of mind. 

‘Right,’ said Matt, and didn’t get up before he opened one of the bottles and took a huge swig of the drink, sputtering the moment it was down his throat. ‘Merlin’s saggy balls, what the _hell_ is this?’ 

‘Something called Eau de Vie,’ said Albus, going to sit on the steps leading up to de Sablé’s empty sarcophagus. ‘It was the cheapest and most alcoholic thing they had.’ 

‘It’s disgusting,’ said Matt, and had another gulp. 

‘Why _are_ we here? Can you explain that now?’ said Selena. ‘Or did you just want to get drunk somewhere culturally exciting?’ 

‘Yeah, Selena. That’s what gets me off.’ Another gulp. ‘Jesus Christ, help me drink this. It’ll be easier if we go shot-for-shot.’ 

‘Um, _no_. I’ll drink in a nice bar. I’m not going to get drunk in a creepy old tomb. Now can you _explain_?’ 

‘I’ll do better than explain,’ said Matt. He had another swig of the Eau de Vie and got to his feet. The world was starting to spin now, and his gait was unsteady as he approached the sarcophagus. ‘I’ll show you. Hold my drink and watch this.’ 

Albus frowned at him, but took the offered bottle. ‘Are you okay, mate?’ 

‘I know what I’m doing,’ said Matt, lifting a hand as he turned to the rear wall upon which the writing sat. ‘I’m a genius.’ Then he ran flat into the wall. 

The wall was solid, and he cracked his forehead against it hard enough to make him bounce off and end up, for the second time in thirty seconds, flat on his back on the tomb floor. The world spun even _more_ , sparks exploded in front of his eyes, and Selena broke into a loud laugh at the sight of his undignified failure. 

‘Ow,’ he groaned. ‘Give me another drink.’ 

Albus appeared over him, blurry. ‘We’re going back -’ 

‘No, give me -’ 

Flailed hands were knocked away. ‘Only if you explain.’ 

Matt sat up slowly, rubbing his forehead. ‘Okay. So, I was talking about illusions earlier - ones which don’t just mess with vision, but mess with the senses. They’re sophisticated. They tap into the brain and then convince the brain to convince your fingers that you’re feeling something, that there’s solid matter there, for example. I thought running straight at it might work, but either I’m _wrong_ or this is just a really solid illusion.’ 

‘So why,’ drawled Selena, ‘is getting shit-faced a good idea?’ 

‘Because if I get really drunk, my brain won’t be able to process the sophisticated trickery telling my body there’s something solid there. “Clear of mind or pure of heart”. I reckon pure of heart is probably just being flowery, or maybe people who were allowed past this wall were given a special trinket or something to mean they were unaffected. But clear of mind? I guess we could try some spells or potions to do that, to numb the brain, but I don’t know them.’ Matt reached for the bottle. ‘So gimme.’ 

Albus sighed and let him gulp down more disgusting alcohol. ‘It’s as good a plan as any,’ he admitted. ‘But has it occurred to you that there might be nothing here?’ 

‘Do you have a better idea?’ Matt wiped his mouth. 

‘I don’t. So let’s give it a shot. Well, I guess you’re giving it lots of shots.’ He gave a wry smile. 

Selena stayed sat on the sarcophagus steps, a little the worse for wear herself. ‘I’m not carrying him home.’ 

‘I’ll do it.’ Albus’ brow furrowed as he watched Matt drinking. ‘You don’t need to do this to prove yourself, you know. You’ve already done a hell of a lot. We wouldn’t have known anything about the Thule Society, Kerner, the Templars, the _Chalice_ if it weren’t for you. We wouldn’t have found this place without you.’ 

‘Actually, Selena thought of looking where Thane had looked. Rose came up with ways of narrowing the search. I’m just repeating what I’ve read in books.’ Matt made a face, and had another gulp. ‘But I don’t feel I need to prove myself. I want to be helpful.’ 

‘He wants to impress Rose,’ said Selena, swaying on her step. 

‘Shut _up_.’ Matt looked wildly between her and Albus - Rose’s cousin, Rose’s boyfriend’s best friend. ‘She’s with Scorpius. It’s fine. She likes him. It’s _fine_.’ 

‘It’s not fine,’ said Selena in a sing-song voice. 

‘I’m dealing with it!’ he snapped, and had another gulp of Eau de Vie. 

Albus’ expression creased. ‘I can see that.’ He drew a deep breath. ‘You don’t need to be pulled into our damage, you know. Our hunt. Thane is our business -’ 

‘Because you fought him? You two have never _met_ him.’ Matt staggered to his feet. ‘He poisoned me. He almost killed me. You know what it was like when I woke up? I could barely _walk_.’ His lip curled in the stumbling recollection of how his body had been in the aftermath - wasted, weak. ‘I didn’t care about my body before, you know? Sure. I hiked. I walked places when we went on holiday. But then I couldn’t do the simple fucking things I took for fucking granted.’ He had another swig of alcohol, ignoring the wide-eyed looks they gave him. ‘I couldn’t _get up stairs_ without help. I couldn’t even help my _little sister_ myself!’ 

Albus lifted his hands. ‘Mate, it’s okay, I saw Lily go through -’ 

‘But you didn’t live it! I see what you guys are like. It’s not the same for me because I wasn’t awake during Phlegethon. Well, it’s not the same for _you_ because you didn’t _feel_ Phlegethon!’ He pointed accusingly with one hand, taking another drink with the other. ‘I exercised. I trained. I worked. My parents know an Auror - I had her give me a bloody _fitness_ program so I could get better, _be_ better, sure, alongside Saint Mungo’s potions and their spells and their work, but quicker, on _my_ terms. So I wasn’t weak - you think it’s bad to be standing against people more magically powerful than you? You ever felt what it’s like to not be able to _stand_? 

‘So _fuck_ Thane. Fuck his plans, fuck his people, fuck _him_. I don’t feel I need to prove myself to you guys. Or prove I have a right to be involved in this. He fucked me up, he fucked up my sister, my friends. And I’m _going to stop him_.’ Without thinking, his free hand had curled into a fist, and at the last explosion of frustration, helplessness, furious recollection of the last few months, he slammed it into the wall he’d run into earlier. 

And this time it went right through what looked like solid stone. 

‘Oh, bloody hell.’ That was Selena, standing and squinting at the wall - except the moment his hand had passed through the illusion, the magic broke. Their minds realised that it was a trick, and the array of magic to keep the rear section of the chamber hidden collapsed into nothing. 

There wasn’t much space behind the trick wall. Another couple of metres of chamber, the same bare stone as the rest and, right in front of them, another alcove. It was smaller than the ones which had contained the great artifacts the Thule Society had stolen from this repository, but more ornate, intricately carved with etchings and markings speaking of the grandeur of the Templars and their wizards. Without the trick wall, the sober part of Matt’s brain - considerably smaller as the alcohol pounded through his system - realised that if one came in through the door, this alcove and whatever was in it would hang above de Sablé’s tomb, overlooking this loyal servant in his rest - or perhaps eternally guarded by this servant? 

Though there was no loyal servant to be overlooked, because the sarcophagus was empty and unfinished. And there was nothing to be eternally guarded. Because the alcove was empty. 

‘Son of a _bitch_ ,’ Matt swore - and then he gave a short bark of drunken laughter. ‘You know what? I bet if I’d smacked that wall with my magic sword, it would have collapsed. _That_ _’s_ what they meant by pure of heart - a Templar properly equipped could get through to this hidden section.’ 

‘This _empty_ hidden section,’ said Selena, aghast. ‘We’re too late.’ 

‘Okay,’ said Matt. ‘Maybe I’m not a _genius_.’ Then he vomited all over Albus’ shoes. 

This would be the last thing Matt would remember of the evening, at least precisely. There would be blurry recollections of the tomb, the other two fussing, and the joy of side-along apparition once completely drunk. He was pretty sure he threw up _again_ after that, and near enough to Selena for her to make a noise of distinct indignation. 

Then he was bundled up into the hotel, suspected that his and Albus' room was not empty when he was put to bed, but blissful oblivion of drunken sleep rushed up at him before he could analyse this any further. 

He did not sleep for long enough. Like the dead for, perhaps, five hours - and then it was a disjointed, inconsistent slumber that was broken for the first time when Albus got up, left the bedroom, and then returned to place a glass of water on the nightstand next to the bed. Matt groaned, burrowed deeper into the duvet, and didn't rise. Albus made for the door, there was a series of hissed oaths as he tripped over something on the way there, something that swore _back_ , and then Albus was gone. 

For a long moment, Matt just lay there, before curiosity overrode the pounding in his skull and the sense that he'd been wrung out like a dishcloth - twisted and exhausted and without a drop of moisture left in him. He looked up. 'Malfoy?' 

The bundle on the futon by the door that Albus had tripped over stirred. 'Get some sleep, you pisshead. If you throw up again I'm not cleaning it up.' 

It _was_ Scorpius. Something surged in Matt's gut, and this time it wasn't nausea. 'What're you doing in _here_?' 

Scorpius rolled over and buried himself deeper into the pillow. 'Being a gentleman and letting Rose get some sleep.' He said no more. 

Matt flopped onto his back, blinking at the ceiling. He was still, he thought, a little drunk, but his brain could process something as simple as that. 

First, and most importantly, they _hadn't_ spent the night together. Second, and almost as important, Scorpius was lying. Rose could have shared a room with Selena like she had the night before. That he was here didn't speak of a rational, reasonable conversation. It suggested, on the contrary, that he'd been kicked out. 

Matt smiled, and proper sleep came soon after. 

Sunlight was streaming through a gap in the curtains by the time he woke up again, and while he didn't feel like he was still drunk, he did feel even more like he'd been wrung out. The room was empty now, and voices were coming through the door, calm but determined. With a groan he rolled out of bed, grabbed one of the hotel dressing gowns, gulped down water - it was odd, he knew he needed to, his throat was dry, even, he just had no _desire_ to drink - and slouched for the door. 

When he opened it, for a moment he thought he was wrong - that he _was_ still drunk - as he spotted the other four sat in the armchairs by the bay windows, talking to the floating form of a ghostly otter. Then he realised what it was, and though he wasn't entirely illuminated, he still shuffled across the room towards them. 

Albus noticed him first, getting to his feet. 'Matt - come on, sit down. We've got some breakfast up, tea, coffee?' 

He did pad over, but lifted his hands. 'No, not for me.' Then he looked at the otter as he collapsed onto one of the armchairs. 'Um. Good morning?' 

'Good morning, Matthias.' It was the voice of Rose's mother, and now this all made a lot more sense. 'I hear you had a... busy evening.' 

'I hear he got wasted,' grumbled Scorpius. Despite the venom he was quiet, subdued. He and Rose were sat with Selena judiciously in between them, and neither looked at the other. Scorpius looked tired and dishevelled, Rose pale but pristine in the way he knew so well - the way she did when she was trying to pretend the woes of the world were like water off a duck's back. 

She'd looked that way for him, once. 

'And yet, I still had a more productive night than you, Malfoy,' he said without missing a beat. 

Scorpius scowled, but fell silent, and Albus lifted a hand. 'I was just bringing Aunt Hermione up to speed,' he said. 'We found a hidden section in de Sablé's tomb, but nothing was there. Rose and I went back this morning - you were right, Matt, your sword did actually collapse the illusion, so we got back in without too much trouble, though it resets itself every time people leave, I think.' 

'The ambient magical energy in the area was definitely originating from that rear alcove,' said Rose, voice clipped and precise. 'So the good news is that I think I have a good handle on the magical signature of the Chalice of Emrys, if we're to believe it was there.' 

'Thane did,' said Matt. 'Or, believed it enough to go there.' 

'The bad news is that there's nothing _there_ ,' said Selena. 'That's pretty critical. No Chalice, no Thane, no leads.' 

Albus shrugged. 'There are two possibilities. Either the Chalice was there, and Thane took it. Or it was not there and Thane moved on. Either way, our next move is clear: find Thane.' 

'And how do we do _that_?' Scorpius sneered. 

'Monte Carlo.' They all looked at Hermione's patronus with confusion, and the otter gave its broad approximation of a smile. 'You mentioned artifacts that had been owned by the Thule Society which Thane and this Raskoph got their hands on. They've shown up in Monte Carlo. On the black market, admittedly - there's an off-the-books auction being held at the Casino Patte de Lapin.' 

'The what?' said Scorpius. 

'Rabbit's Foot Casino,' said Matt, and decided he would have some coffee after all. 'It's the biggest magical casino in the world. Mired almost constantly in controversies about corruption, connections to the criminal underworld, accusations of being a site of trafficking illegal goods.' 

'All true,' said Hermione, 'but you know how these things go in proving it. And also, that's Monte Carlo's problem. But it would seem that they, or at least, Pierre Maisson, the manager and a very dodgy customer, have got their hands on some of the goods Thane and his men "liberated" from Badenheim.' 

'It's possible they've just fenced them to Maisson, they might have gone somewhere completely different,' said Rose. 

'Possible, yes. But it means he's gone there and been in touch with these people, so it's our best and only lead,' said Albus. 

'There have also been suspicions that Pierre Maisson is a backer of the Council of Thorns, and that the casino is used for all manner of Council business - meetings, money laundering, channelling funds directly to the Council. They're so thoroughly protected from local law enforcement that suspicion isn't enough for anyone to do anything, but it's perhaps the biggest hot-spot of potential trouble in Europe,' said Hermione's patronus. 'Or the place the biggest potential trouble gets _planned_.' 

'So what're we supposed to do?' Scorpius opened his hands. 'Barge into a _casino_ , with security which would make the Ministry of Magic's defensive protocols look like a first year's charms on their travel trunk, grab the incredibly rich, influential, and dangerous owner of the casino, and shake him until he tells us where to find Prometheus Thane and his _Nazi_ friend?' 

'There is a reason they've not gone far,' said Hermione. 'It's tremendously difficult to personally arrange international portkeys. Apparition across long distances takes time and effort, even if you do it yourself across multiple legs. It's just impractical. And anyone taking anything half as magical as these artifacts through a government portkey is going to be stopped and investigated. I suspect that Thane and his people are travelling only as far as they can under their own steam through apparition - and even doing that across international borders runs risks of detection.' 

Scorpius shrugged. 'So?' 

'So if they want to leave Europe with anything magically powerful, they're going to need their own, illegal international portkey. Those take time and effort to acquire.' 

Albus sat back, smirking. 'So you think that he's gone to the Rabbit's Foot Casino to lie low, somewhere friendly and _secure_ , until he and his people, and maybe even the Chalice, can bug out to wherever they want to go.' 

'I think it's possible. I think that Thane also had business in Monte Carlo.' The otter shifted and extended a paw to something they couldn't see, Hermione on the other end rifling through papers on a table. 'I heard about the auction late last night - it'll be held in a week's time, by the way, all the better for the disreputable figures of the whole world to make their way to Monaco. But then I looked into local affairs and found that the day before yesterday there had been a break-in at the home of a local wizard of some notable wealth and power. He didn't report the break-in himself, but it happened so obviously that the local Enforcers were all over it. Officially, and by his reports, nothing was taken - it was just a random break in of a tremendously secure private property.' 

'That's odd,' Albus grunted. 

'Indeed. I wouldn't have cared or noticed if my eye wasn't already on Monte Carlo. But I’d seen your papers, and I found the wizard’s reluctance to have any full investigation suspicious, and so I had to look closer when I saw his name: Alfonse Guerrier.’ 

Despite his pounding headache, Matt sat bolt upright. ‘ _Guerrier_.’ 

‘Is someone going to tell me why I should care?’ grumbled Scorpius. 

Hermione's patronus looked at him, then at Rose - who averted her gaze - then settled on Albus. ‘It could have been a coincidence. But it’s not - his family isn’t from Monaco. His father lived in Paris during the Grindelwald Wars, and then came to Monte Carlo in very early 1941. Though he helped the French forces from afar, he never returned to the fighting.’ 

‘Please tell me his father’s name was Charles Guerrier.’ Matt’s throat was dry. 

The patronus gave its approximation of a smile. ‘You would be correct.’ 

Albus lifted a hand. ‘So let me get this straight: Charles Guerrier was a French Resistance fighter who hid out in the parts of the Catacombs where Kerner and the Thule Society _found_ all of those relics, the relics which happened to not include the Chalice of Emrys. But by the time Kerner found that chamber, Guerrier’s comrades were all dead, and Guerrier himself had fled to Monte Carlo?’ 

‘You’re right.’ Matt pursed his lips. 'This could be nothing.' 

‘It could be. But it’d be a staggering coincidence,’ said Rose. ‘And it seems likely that Thane thought there was something important about Guerrier. It’s too much of a coincidence that the son of a man who fled Kerner has been attacked in the same city we know Thane’s gone to.’ 

Despite his pale face and exhausted eyes, Scorpius sat up straight and gave one of his forced grins, the kind that even Matt by now could tell spoke of exaggerated good-humour to hide something bubbling underneath. He clapped his hands together. 'From Paris to Monte Carlo,' he said, grin going crooked. 'This is already shaping up to be a hell of a trip.' 


	14. Black Sheep

'To be super precise,' said Matt as he put on his sunglasses, 'we're not in Monte Carlo. We're in Monaco.' 

Rose looked at him and could briefly understand why Scorpius was so sardonic. There were times it was very, very apt. She sighed. 'No?' 

But he must have sensed her disinterest, deflating like a balloon with a slow but pride-piercing puncture. 'Er, no. This is Monaco-Ville. On the Rock of Monaco. Technically speaking, _that's_ Monte Carlo.' He pointed west. 

Monte Carlo - or Monaco - or wherever the hell they were - was like someone took a steep tumble of high ground towards peerless blue sea and built the most shockingly gorgeous city in the fall. Rose and Matt had just left narrow streets she suspected had seen little architectural attention in five hundred years, sunlight falling upon pale and peach walls dotted with white shutters. Although warmer, more relaxed, and with a flair that Rose could not give a better descriptor than 'Mediterranean', it reminded her uncomfortably of the old quarter of Paris she and Scorpius had been to the night before, and this brought with it the flood of shame and awkwardness that had taken residence in her gut. 

It was not time to think about that. Not time to think of him one moment so close and intimate, the next pulling away, _running_ away, leaving her cold and alone and bewildered. It was time to work. So she looked in the direction Matt pointed. 

The larger of Monaco's harbours loomed far below, the sea a dazzling turquoise that flickered under the sun. As the land rose up around it, so too did the taller, more modern buildings, glittering in the sunlight with glass and metal, the pure antithesis of the humble, narrow streets they'd come from. 

'It'll be prettier at night,' said Matt, awkward. 'I think. I don't know. I've only read about it.' She looked up at him, but his sunglasses hid his eyes and the bulk of his expression. That seemed useful, so she slipped on her own as he drummed his fingers on the railing. 'You okay?' 

Her breath caught in her throat. 'What?' 

'You. Last night. And Scorpius.' It sounded like the words were being dragged past his lips, and he hesitated as more people passed them on the promenade granting them this magnificent view from the Rock of Monaco, as if they'd overhear and care. 'He crashed in our room.' 

'So?' 

'And you've looked tense all morning and he's been like a bear with a headache -' 

'As if you could tell, you've been hungover to hell -' 

'Hey, why am I getting flak for that? It got us through the wall -' 

'As if that was your only reason!' Now she was snapping and didn't know why, turning to face him with an accusation in her gut she didn't really feel. But it felt good, somehow, to let off the frustration and uncertainty at _someone_. 

'I don't see what business it is of yours -' Then he stopped, looked away, and gave a slow exhale. When he spoke again, his voice was infinitely softer. 'Something's wrong,' said Matt, nudging his glasses down his nose to look her in the eye. 'You're upset. I'm concerned.' 

'And we'll talk about it because we're friends, right?' She gave a wry, choking laugh. 

'Yes!' 

'Trust me, Matt.' Rose looked away. 'You don't want to know.' 

He tensed again. 'He didn't hurt you, or...' 

'No - Matt, we _shouldn't_ talk about this -' 

'What, so you can bottle this up and let it gnaw at you? Why the hell shouldn't we talk about it?' 

'Because it's not fair to you! Because we're not _just_ friends! Because I saw how you looked at me last night!' The words tumbled past her lips unbidden, because for all she valued Matt's company, his wellbeing was not first, or even second place on her priority list right then. 

He stepped back, glasses masking his eyes again, and for a moment he was dumbstruck, mouth working wordlessly. 'I - I thought you looked good,' he stammered. 'I'm only human, and you're, well -' 

'Mister Doyle? Miss Weasley?' 

Rose didn't think she'd been so pleased by an interruption in her life, and her expression was one of perfect control when she turned to see the attendant they'd spoken to fifteen minutes earlier cross the promenade. He was a wiry, mousy man, going grey but young enough to be a wizard who knew how to dress in a Muggle environment - or perhaps somewhere as crowded as Monaco demanded a more savvy magical population. He gave them the same thin smile which didn't reach his eyes that he'd greeted them with at the door. 'Monsieur Guerrier has agreed to see you.' 

Matt's expression flickered, then he was all business, straightening his light, linen jacket. She'd rolled her eyes when Selena had insisted they have an impromptu shopping trip before their visit, but she had to concede she’d been right. If they wanted to impress their way in to see a paranoid and recently-burgled man, they needed to look the part. 'Very kind,' he said, returning the deep nod. 

'If you'll follow me,' said Guerrier's attendant, and led them back the way they'd come, into the tumbling depths of the narrow streets of Monaco-Ville. He moved like a native, slipping between the crowds of tourists with ease and not waiting for them, and Rose let Matt lead the way, his larger form shouldering people out the way. 

But they knew the destination, at least, and it only took a couple of minutes before they turned the corner to see the ramshackle and near-derelict building at the end of a narrow alleyway that her mother had directed them to in the first place. To all appearances it was a run-down place nobody should care about, though Rose had wondered how inconspicuous such a place was in chic Monaco. But the anti-Muggle wards were strong enough to make it pass any scrutiny, and so the three of them were alone as they went down the alley. 

It took until the attendant touched the rotten wooden door before everything before their eyes shimmered - and they weren't stood before a small, derelict building at all, but a handsome old house that was taller and grander than most in Monaco-Ville. Sunlight glimmered off its peach walls, the light green shutters gleamed with fresh paint, and when the attendant opened the door to lead them into a huge, opulent hallway, Rose could only wonder how magic could trick light enough that somewhere which had seemed so sheltered could now be bathed in the sun's rays. 

'Monsieur Guerrier is in his study,' said the attendant, giving them another bow. 'If you'd follow me.' 

Matt had taken off his sunglasses and somehow assumed an expression of complete indifference to the opulence before them. The chandelier above hovered magically, sunlight streaming through a high window to cascade through the crystals and shimmer down upon them in a warm, gentle rain of light. And Matt's indifference did flicker as he spotted a painting on the far wall. 

'Is that Ginocchio's _Fair Lady_?' he blurted out. 'I knew it was in a private collection, but I had no idea Monsieur Guerrier -' 

'Monsieur Guerrier is most appreciative of fine magical art,' said the attendant, ushering them up the stairs pointedly. 'I am sure he would be delighted to show you his collection when you are done with your business.' 

Matt shut his mouth and the two of them followed the attendant deeper into the mansion. He opened a door without knocking and led them into a gloomy, wood-panelled study, the walls lined with shelves she could see Matt ogling the contents of, another painting above the mantelpiece Rose assumed would be some jaw-dropping original piece of magical art. 

But it was to the far wall that they were ushered, where double doors opened out onto a wide balcony that overlooked the bay of Monte Carlo. Rose had to squint for a moment, her mental geography deeming this impossible, but this was dismissed as she spotted the man sat out there. Dressed in a white shirt, relaxing next to a table already laid-out with a white cloth, she recognised him from the file her mother had sent. 

'Monsieur Guerrier - Mister Doyle and Miss Weasley of the Crowley Foundation.' The attendant managed to somehow introduce them and then disappear at once, the opening of a meeting laid out in the same instance as he removed himself from his master's private business. 

Alfonse Guerrier stood, and his weathered features creased into a smile she could tell was false. He was an older gentleman but had aged well, cutting a tall and distinguished shape in the Mediterranean sunlight, but when he extended a hand in greeting he did not approach. They, of course, had to go to him. 'A pleasure,' said Guerrier. 'And a surprise. I was not expecting visitors from the Crowley Foundation.' 

Matt headed over first, shaking the proffered hand. 'We were in the area, and thought we'd take the opportunity of a visit,' he said. She was impressed that this wasn’t exactly a lie. 

'Then I am flattered I find myself coming to your attention. Would you like a drink? I was just going to enjoy a Campari and soda myself.' He gestured to the bottles and glasses on the table, laid out like he'd expected them. 

They _had_ called ahead, after all. Rose eyeballed the bottle of a dark red liquid she didn't recognise, and gave the most dazzling smile she could summon. 'That would be lovely, Monsieur Guerrier.' Matt, still in the thralls of his hangover, gave a wan smile, but also nodded. 

'Wonderful.' Guerrier moved to the table and started to pour the drinks, his movements light, casual - as was his voice when he spoke. 'You must forgive me,' he said, his French accent rolling effortlessly off his words, 'but you both seem very _young_ to be representatives of the Crowley Foundation.' 

'My father has done a lot of work for them,' said Matt. 'He's provided us a great many opportunities.' 

'It is delightful, then, to see young people following their parents' footsteps.' Guerrier padded over to extend the glasses to them both. Rose had a sip, finding the drink go down easily, while Matt had to hide a grimace at his more discreet gulp. 'And I have long admired the Crowley Foundation's work. You and your colleagues are quite tireless in the pursuit of lost art.' 

The Crowley Foundation was, Matt had assured her, an actual organisation, a private group of European wizards dedicated to the recovery of knowledge, art, and relics that time or the unscrupulous had taken from the public arena. They were the second-largest employers of Curse Breakers after Gringotts, and he'd talked about them in a way which suggested to her that employment in their ranks wouldn't be so much pure fiction as living a fantasy. It had seemed the best ruse to get past the security of a man as paranoid as Alfonse Guerrier. 

'Thank you. It's very kind of you to say so,' she said, 'and very kind of you to receive us.' 

' _Mais rien_.' He smiled and turned to the balcony. 'It is the least I can do for such an auspicious organisation. And the least I can do for two such auspicious personages.' 

Matt froze, drink halfway to his lips. 'Auspicious?' 

'You are Matthias Doyle - you mentioned your father working with the Crowley Foundation. This, I did not know. I know your father as Gabriel Doyle the businessman, Gabriel Doyle the information broker. And you, Miss Weasley, are a lady whose family needs no introduction.' Guerrier didn't face them, resting a languid hand on the balcony railing, before he gestured in the air with his glass. 'It will be a shame to upset both the Crowley Foundation _and_ such notable British families today.' 

'Upse-' Then a booted foot hit the back of her leg and Rose was knocked to her knees, her glass flying from her hand and smashing on the balcony floor. Matt was likewise struck down, the two on the ground before they knew it. 

Rose felt the tip of a wand press into the back of her head and, hands shaking from shock and adrenaline, she only slowly craned her neck to look up at Guerrier. 'I don't know what this is -' 

'A shame,' said Guerrier as he turned around, but he was looking at the shattered glass on the floor. 'Those were crystal.' He set his own drink down, then dusted of his hands. ' _Merci_ , gentlemen,' he said to the two wizards who had appeared from nowhere to incapacitate his guests. 'If they so much as twitch, kill them.' 

Matt drew a rasping breath. 'I don't know what you're - we're here to talk about buying from your collection -' 

'You mean stealing.' Iron now ran through Alfonse Guerrier's polite voice, and the older man leaned forwards, clasping his hands together. 'Your Foundation has been lazy and crude, Mister Doyle. They send you here only a day after I am attacked, and you feign ignorance? You are here to take advantage of me, scope out my collection for what is left for you to seize. Your people think me weak. You are so, so wrong.' 

He reached to take a sip of his drink, smacking his lips before he settled back on his chair. 'So, we are going to have a little conversation. About the Foundation, what they know, what they want of mine. And if I do not like the answers, I shall have my friends here ask the questions again. Firmly.'

* * 

'It's not fancy, it's over-priced, and it's _Muggle_ , but we need to keep a low profile,' said Albus, looking around the small, sparsely-furnished flat, with its stupendous views of the buildings right next to them which blocked the rest of Monte Carlo from sight. 'And I guess it's as good as we were going to get at the last minute.' 

'Without sending ripples through the local magic community, yeah.' But Scorpius slumped past him to one of the two bedrooms, hefting his pack and tossing it through the door. 

Monaco lacked a physical magic quarter. There were wizards, of course, there to enjoy the city-state's delights, Muggle and magic, and a casino as huge as the Rabbit's Foot would not be able to survive without a healthy magical tourist trade. But there was no central authority, no hidden street or island, and their portkey had not been an internationally-issued one - which at least meant leaving Paris happened quickly. 

Which meant they'd not had much time to find somewhere to stay. 

Albus watched Scorpius as he slumped on the couch. 'The others won't take long,' he said with confidence. The judgement had been that starting out with Alfonse Guerrier was their best bet, and Matt and Rose had been the best candidates for such a conversation. Selena had fussed about making them "ready", whatever that meant, which left the two of them to find their new hidey-hole and settle in. 

Which meant Albus could try to figure out what the hell was going on. 'So,' he started, and tossed his own bag to the floor next to the sofa. 'Last night.' 

Scorpius lifted his hands. 'I don't want to talk about it.' 

'It clearly didn't go well -' 

'What part of "I don't want to talk about it" don't you understand?' 

Scorpius sat up, voice raised, but Albus met his gaze, expression plain and level. 'Don't do this, Scorp,' he said. 'Something's wrong. I know your tricks by now - be a prick to me so I don't want to help?' 

'Or, maybe, I'll deal with it on my own terms -' 

'Are you going to talk to _her_ , at least?' 

Scorpius hesitated - then made a noise of frustration as he rose to his feet, and stalked to the nearest window. The view of the metal-grey of the nearest building was hardly inspiring. 'What do I _say_?' 

Albus shrugged. 'I have no idea, because I don't know what the problem is. Is this about Matthias, again? Because, really -' 

'No, we... talked about Doyle.' Scorpius waved a hand. 'It's not him. It's me, mate, it's -' He cringed. 'You don't want to know.' 

'I'm starting to think you're right.' He still padded across the room to his friend's side, shoving his hands in his pockets. 'Look. I don't need - I mean - I know we talk girls, sometimes... or, you talk girls and I listen...' 

'...yeah, but this is _Rose_ -' 

'- and there are things I don't need to hear -' 

'It's not like _that_.' Scorpius squinted. 'Mostly.' 

Albus sighed. 'There are times it was easier when you two hated each other.' 

'You hated being in the middle of that.' 

'Better than feeling like the third wheel.' Albus couldn't keep a wry expression off his face as Scorpius turned to him, shocked. 'Come on, it's a bit true. Last few months, there've been a few times I've not known what to do with myself.' 

'I'm sorry, mate, I never meant to make you feel like that -' 

'It's not a big deal. I'm learning the cues. And this _really_ isn't about me. My point is, I stuck by you before, I'll stick by you now. If you want to talk. Even awkwardly.' 

Scorpius' lips twisted. 'I thought last night was going great, you know? Dinner, wine, we talked, felt like the first time I _properly_ unwound in - I don't even know how long. And then...' He hesitated, gesticulating in that exaggerated manner he did when awkward. 'We got back to the hotel. To the bedroom, I mean. And, well, things got a bit heated up, and -' 

He faltered again, but Albus stayed quiet. There was no way he could help nudge this conversation along, and so the uncertain silence stayed stiff for long moments. But of all the things Albus could have anticipated Scorpius saying next, what came out of his friend's mouth was the last. 

'I panicked,' Scorpius admitted, glaring at the window. 'I just - she was there, and I was - I panicked, it was like I couldn't _breathe_ , my chest went all tight and - I had to get out. It was like this voice screaming in my head that it was wrong, all wrong, and I, I _ran_...' 

Albus cocked his head. 'What was wrong?' 

'I don't know! I thought the problem would be _her_ if it were either one of us - I don't mean _problem_ , I mean, hesitation, and that was _fine_ , she's - I was good to take things slow. But she wasn't hesitating, and -' 

'Did that take you by surprise, maybe?' Albus ventured. If dealing with his friends' relationship was wandering into a minefield, then this was the equivalent of striding into the location of an upcoming napalm strike. 

'Well, yes, but I don't deal with every surprise by _running from the room_.' Scorpius had gone red by now. 

'Maybe you should talk to her?' 

'And say what?' A hysterical note had entered his voice. '"Sorry, you were _super_ hot and that freaked me the hell out"?' 

Albus flinched. 'Say it more nicely than that.' 

'I can't - this is so damn humiliating.' Scorpius dragged his hands across his face. 

Not without some hesitation, Albus put a hand on his shoulder. And then decided to turn it into a manly, reassuring pat. 'It's Rose. She gets you. She _likes_ you. She'll listen. Right now, she's probably upset, yeah, but she'll be more upset not knowing what the hell's going on.' He thinned his lips. 'What were you afraid of?' 

'What?' 

'In the panic. What was scary?' 

Scorpius planted his hands on the windowsill and drew a deep, ragged breath. 'I don't know. Looking stupid? No, that's not it. I don't know, I just panicked.' 

'We've got a lot on our plates right now,' said Albus. 'I think being highly-strung is normal. It's probably not _that_ big a deal, it just feels like it because we're dealing with big things. Life and death. So your mind's set to have all stations go at the slightest provocation. But if you don't want to talk to her, yet, you need to get yourself to a state to talk to her.' 

'And how do I do _that_?' 

'I think figuring out why it felt wrong would be step one.' 

Scorpius' shoulders sagged, but he looked over and managed, for the first time, a thin smile. 'Yeah. I guess. Thanks, mate. And, look - you won't tell her any of this?' 

Albus hesitated. 'I won't go to her. If she asks me what's going on, I'm not going to lie and say I don't know. But I'm not going to volunteer it. It's between you and her, and I'll tell her to talk to you. Don't worry, mate.' He clapped him on the shoulder again. 'I've got your back.' 

'Oh, good,' said Scorpius, voice wry. 'You can be stood right over my shoulder as I make a humiliating idiot of myself.' 

'I've been doing that for six years.' Albus smirked good-naturedly, and was rewarded with a small but sincere grin in kind. 'I think we can both take it.'

* * 

'Okay,' said Rose, and was surprised to hear how level her voice was. ‘We can talk about this.' 

'That is, indeed, what I am hoping we would do.' Guerrier refilled his glass, the sound of liquid trickling from the bottle louder than it had any right to be. 'Who informed you of the break-in?' 

'We're not here to take your collection,' blurted out Matt, and Rose _could_ hear the waver in _his_ voice. 

Of course. He hadn't looked death in the eye before. This was a new experience for him. 

When had it become routine for _her_? 

'Don't lie to me. The Crowley Foundation has for years known to give me a wide berth. And now here you are. You were not even surprised when I mentioned the break-in to you. You need to be better at bluffing.' Guerrier had a sip of his drink. 'Who told you?' 

This situation, Rose mused to herself, had been grossly underestimated. As had Guerrier's paranoia and inclination towards violence. 

'Nobody told -' Matt was cut off with a cry of pain as the man holding the wand to the back of his head let off a short spark that jolted through him, prompted by no more than a glance from Guerrier. 

Guerrier sighed. 'This is getting tiresome -' 

'They took the Chalice of Emrys.' Rose lifted her head. She'd been running through all the options, all the lies, and rejected them while Matt ran through their opening theatrics. The only thing left was the truth. 'Didn't they?' 

Guerrier's expression flickered. Rose felt the wand shift at the back of her head, but his gaze flickered over her shoulder and he shook his head. 'What makes you think that?' 

'Because if that's what they took, then I know who did it. Because we were after them, and that's what we're after.' 

He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. ' _Who_?' 

Matt drew a ragged breath. 'Rose -' 

'The Council of Thorns,' she said, ignoring the warning. 'Or, more specifically, Prometheus Thane and maybe someone called Raskoph. They're in town, set to sell some of their goods at an auction at the Rabbit's Foot Casino next week. We’ve been after them. We know they were after the Chalice. And so we looked into local affairs and heard about the reported break-in here.' 

Guerrier cocked his head. 'Then why are you here?' 

'To find out for sure. To follow the trail. To see what you know.' 

'If you wanted information out of me, lying in the first place was not wise.' 

Rose gave a humourless smile. 'If we'd said we were nobodies off the street here to ask about the break-in, we wouldn't have got as far as this meeting in the first place.' 

She was rewarded by his lips twitching - then Guerrier lifted his hands to the two wizards who had accosted them. He gave a curt instruction in French, and Rose felt the pressure of the wand at the base of her skull disappear. This time, she heard the dull _crack_ as the two wizards disapparated. 

'Please,' said Guerrier, leaning back on his chair. 'Be seated. I apologise for accosting you. But a man cannot be too careful in these times.' 

Rose got to her feet, cautious and aching from the blow that had knocked her down, but she was quicker to rise than Matt, who crawled into the nearest chair. His sunglasses had come off and though he scooped to retrieve them she saw his eyes, wide and worried, before they were hidden. 

'What are you two - British agents?' 

'It would hardly be legal for the Ministry of Magic to dispatch agents to hunt the Council of Thorns across international borders,' said Rose neutrally. 

Guerrier gave another thin smile. 'So be it. Why does the Council want the Chalice? I have had no trouble from them before now.' 

'We believe...' Rose hesitated. Then she remembered how the two wizards who had brutally held them at wand-point could no doubt reappear within the blink of an eye if Guerrier felt he was being misled again. She grimaced. 'We believe they intend to use it to further their development of the Phlegethon virus.' 

'The Eridanos virus,' said Guerrier. 

'Then you know what I'm talking about.' 

Matt rubbed the back of his head. ‘Your father had the Chalice? He took it here from Paris?’ 

Guerrier raised an eyebrow. ‘Well _done_. He took it from under the noses of the Vichy Regime and the Thule Society who hunted it, back in 1941. Along with other relics which have since made their ways… around.’ 

_And into your pockets to pay for all of this_. 'Then why not sell the Chalice?' she asked. 

'It is one thing for me to buy and sell original paintings. Pieces of ancient magical art. Even valuable commodities such as Montserrat's Shroud. But the Chalice of Emrys?' His expression creased. 'Who would I sell it to? Who would pay enough? And then, would I _ever_ be left alone? Able to live and work discreetly, if the world knew I was the man who had such an artifact? The Chalice is priceless. It is _literally_ without price.' He shrugged. 'There was nothing to do with it but keep it, hide it. Until now.' 

'And you never used it?' asked Matt. 

'I am a collector, Mister Doyle,' said Guerrier. 'Not a scholar. Not a philanthropist. I buy and sell and own for my pleasure. I am not ashamed to say this - I could not make it do anything other than be a cup. And then who in the world, what expert in the world, could I _possibly_ hire to help me with it?' 

Matt sighed. 'That's a fair point.' 

'You believe that the Council's people are at the Rabbit's Foot Casino. I have heard of the auction next week. Until this happened, I was even considering attending. I think I shall give this one a miss.' Guerrier smiled without humour. 'What do you intend? To arrest this Thane and Raskoph?' 

'To stop them. To get the Chalice off them,' said Rose. 

He nodded. 'If they are capable of getting past my security then they are formidable indeed. And if they are under the protection of Pierre Maisson and his security, then getting to them, or anything of theirs, will be almost impossible. The Rabbit's Foot is perhaps the most secure building in all of Europe.' 

Matt and Rose exchanged glances, and she felt her heart sink. Guerrier was telling them nothing new - just everything they had feared. 

'You're telling us to give up?' said Matt. 

'I would,' said Guerrier. 'But that would mean someone had pierced my defences and then escaped without ever being held accountable. And my reputation could hardly tolerate such a thing.' He leaned forward. 'You have gifted me with the knowledge of who wronged me, and where they are. You want them captured, or stopped. I want them punished. This would sound to me like we can reach some arrangement, no?' 

Rose's heart leapt. 'I think s-' 

'Who was your father?' Matt interrupted her with a frown. 'I mean, I know he was a resistance fighter, but how on Earth did he get his hands on the Chalice in the first place?' 

Guerrier's lips thinned, and Rose cast Matt a warning look. He gave a brief shrug. 'My father had a very different view of the world to me,’ said Guerrier. ‘Of its treasures, to me. He sought to hide what I thought should be seen. Valued. Appreciated. Even if the Chalice was one matter where we agreed. You know, by now, of the Chalice's history - of its usage and ownership by the Templars for centuries?' 

Matt nodded. 'We found where it had been kept in Paris.' 

'The Templars expired centuries ago - though they hid so many of their treasures there are always new, exotic prospects arising in my line of work. My father was not one of them... but he was, perhaps, an adherent of their philosophies. Respectful of the work that had came before. And believed that what was hidden should stay hidden. He could only take so much from under the Thule Society’s nose, but he took what he could. Monaco remained free of their presence throughout the war and so he came here, with all he could liberate, with all the funding he had stolen to work to make it... safe.' 

'And then you inherited it all years later and, instead of hiding things, became a dealer.' Matt's voice was slow, measured. 

Guerrier raised an eyebrow. 'You sound like you disapprove.' 

'Of both, truth be told.' He shrugged. 'I don't think things should be hidden. But I don't think they belong to the highest bidder.' 

'Mister Doyle... in the real world, _everything_ belongs to the highest bidder. It is just that we do not only bid in money.' 

Rose leaned forward. 'You can help us get to the Chalice?' 

'I can help you try to beat the Rabbit's Foot. What you do there is up to you, so long as you leave the Council of Thorns' people bloodied and punished for what they have done to me.' 

'Do they need to be literally bloodied?' Matt asked anxiously. 

'I do not think the Council will balk at some of their goons being hurt. No, I think they will need hurting in a way they will care about. Plans ruined, pocketbooks attacked... power. You must hurt their _power_. That is how they will care.' Guerrier smiled, his face looking older and more creased, and though the expression seemed sincere there was a definite air of malice to it. Rose had to force herself to keep eye contact. 'Do we have a deal?'

* * 

'Christ,' breathed Matt once they were out of Guerrier's front door. He shoved his sunglasses on and ran a hand through his hair, all the better to hide the shake at his fingertips. 

But Rose could see it, and she grabbed him by the elbow. 'Not here. We walk away with our heads high,' she said, and all but steered him down the road the way they'd come. Soon enough the mansion behind them looked again like a derelict old building; soon enough they were gone from this magical corner of Monaco and in the old town's narrow, rustic streets surging with tourists. 

'That was - I mean, I thought we were dead,' said Matt, still stunned as he followed her back to the promenade where they'd waited earlier. 

'Yeah, it wasn't our best ever plan. He was _way_ more paranoid than I expected. We should have figured waltzing in wasn't so bright.' 

'He just - I just - bloody hell.' 

She looked at him as they left a narrow street to emerge in a square of cobbles sloping down to a park. There was a church on their left, a tall building of gleaming white stone and arched doorways and windows. Matt's eyes lit up at the sight of it, but she didn't let go of his arm, just tugged him down into the greenery and peace of the park overlooking the sea and the bay. 'Culture later. You need to sit down.' 

'What?' 

'Congratulations,' Rose said. 'You've looked death in the eye and been utterly helpless, but came out the other side alive. These moments come and they go but you don’t forget the first time it happens.' 

'I - a golem tried to kill me in Badenheim!' 

'Not so bloody loud,' she hissed, but they were in the quiet of the artfully sculpted park by then, and she found the most secluded bench she could, pushing him down. For her part, she needed to stand, to pace, to do something to burn off the churning in her gut. 'That was different. You could fight, you had a wand. And then a sword. You weren't helpless.' 

Matt looked like he was going to argue - then sagged, scrubbing his face with his hands. 'I thought we were dead.' 

'And now you're not. Air tastes sweeter, doesn't it? You don't always get to enjoy the aftermath. Make the most of it.' Rose's brow knotted. The first time she'd had the chance to enjoy that heady spinning of the head, that awareness of being _alive_ , that intricate sense of connection to the whole world around her, she'd been so invigorated she'd let Scorpius kiss her. Then she'd kissed him back. 

'Yeah.' Matt blinked, then straightened. 'I'm okay. That was just a bit close.' 

'It was.' She could see he was better. He wasn't weak and this hadn't been too bad. He just needed a moment to get his bearings, and he'd had it. So now she had no compunctions about swatting him on the arm. 'That was a _stupid_ plan!' 

He reeled back. 'What?' 

'You said you could talk him into helping us!' 

'I - I thought I could! I was going to pose as someone looking into his father's collection, but he blew us out of the water before then!' Matt got to his feet, indignant. 

'Instead, you talked me into going into some paranoid black market trader's mansion of horrendous security and violent lackeys and almost got our fool heads blown off!' 

'Hey, you agreed to this!' 

'I thought you had a plan!' 

'I did! I told you the plan! That was the plan! I thought at worst he'd _kick us out_!' He looked desperate. 'Why are you blaming _me_? God knows I couldn't convince you to do something you didn't want to do!' 

Her arms folded across her chest. 'What's _that_ supposed to mean?’ 

'Exactly that!' Matt stabbed an accusing finger. 'Like something’s wrong but you don’t want to tell me, and there’s not a _power_ in the universe that can change _that_ , even if it's blatantly _chewing you up_!' The anger was rolling off his voice and swapping for frustrated concern, and as Rose glanced around she could tell they were earning the odd look from passers-by. 

So much for being discreet. At least people would think this was no more than a lovers' tiff. 

'This has nothing to do with that.' 

'Doesn't it?' demanded Matt. 'Then why are you biting my head off for something that I couldn't control or predict? Don't act like I don't know you, Rose, because I do.' 

So maybe he hadn't been the only one having an adverse reaction to facing the business-end of Guerrier's anger. Her heart was still thudding in her chest, her mind racing at a thousand miles an hour, and while the sky seemed brighter it wasn't _warming_ , it was _blinding_ and all she could think about was being left last night in the cold and - 

Her retort was lost in a choke, and Rose was furious to feel tears welling up, unbidden. She turned away and swatted at her eyes, though it was far, far too late to pretend nothing was wrong. 'I'm _fine._ ' 

'Worst lie ever,' said Matt, but his jocular tone was swamped with worry. He shuffled his feet, then she felt his hand come to her shoulder, and with a start realised this was their first physical contact in months. 

'I don't -' She took a deep, wavering breath, trying to steel her shakiness. 'This isn't fair to you, Matt!' 

'Forget _me_ ; you're upset, you're my friend, and I want to help!' 

_Except you looked at me last night like you used to look at me all the time. Except I'm not telling you that Scorpius ditched me in a panic and now can't even look at me. Except I'm not lamenting my relationship woes to you, because that's not something any of us - not you, not me, not Scorpius - really, really wants to see happen._

If Scorpius was upset about something she'd done last night, she wasn't sure. She _was_ sure he wouldn't thank her for airing their problems to her ex-boyfriend. When she wiped her cheeks again, she was relieved to find no fresh tears. 'Let's not pretend we're just friends and this is normal,' she said, her voice levelling out. 'I don't want to hurt you.' 

'You don't -' 

'But it would. You know it would.' She glanced at him, gaze apologetic. _I don't know what you feel, but if it's an iota of what it looked like, you really don't want to hear all of this._ It wasn't his fault. She didn't think she would be thrilled to hear about _his_ romantic entanglements right now. 

Matt's lips thinned, and he dropped his hand - but he did nod. 'All right. Just - you talk to someone, yeah? Him. Selena. Albus. I don't know. I hate seeing you cry, Rosie.' 

_Rosie_. He'd not called her that since they'd broken up. She'd never liked it much from him, but then she did call him 'Matty', and so couldn't complain. So she just nodded. 'I will. And… I’m sorry for yelling at you.’ 

The moment needed to break. The sun streamed down on the coast, the park they were in was well-shaded, the path winding between the sculpted hedges and flowers, the trees and the statues and outdoor artworks with their plaques. It was idyllic - but it didn't feel it. Her gut still churned from their brush with danger, her head still spun with the impossible prospects before them, and her heart still ached with the memory of last night. 

'Mum hooked your book up to the Hogwarts Library, didn't she. Did you read more on the Templars?' 

It was a cheap move, a clumsy subject change, an easy manipulation - and he plainly knew it. But his eyes still lit up with that spark of enthusiasm and love of knowledge she didn't share with anyone else, and he seemed happy to _let_ her push the topic on. 

'Just how the fall of the wizarding Templars related to the fall of the main Order - it's interesting, really, we don't get groups between both worlds which intersect like that any more...' 

And then he was off, rambling on a topic he loved and she could listen to him enthuse about, let his voice wash over her. The words were there, interesting and lodging in her mind, but it wasn't those she cared about as she nudged them to head down the park to the path to the flat. She just wanted something to think about which wasn't the painful prospects ahead, and when it came to diversions that gave her something to think about, he was the best. 

And almost, _almost_ enough to make her stop thinking about Scorpius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Welcome to Monaco! Not much to say on this chapter. The_ _‘Ginocchio’ and his ‘Fair Lady’ painting are entirely fictitious pieces of magical art. The park in which Rose and Matt have their last conversation is real, as is the church they pass - the Jardin de Saint Martin and the Cathédrale de Monaco respectively._


	15. Down a Dark Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Not much lore for this one, except that Matt cites the “Codex Döbringer” - which is actually a real book. It’s a book written in old German which discusses fencing techniques and, reputedly, magic. I couldn’t pass on the opportunity for there to be a ‘full’ version in the magical world which goes into greater detail than the ‘Muggle version’. Swords and magic! What’s not to like._

‘So this guy was thinking of killing you,’ said Selena, ‘and we’re going to act on his information?’

‘We’re going to use him as a starting point for our information,’ said Rose, stood over them as the five gathered in the threadbare sitting area of their run-down Monaco apartment. ‘Because right now we have nothing except for the _possibility_ that Thane and his people are at the Rabbit’s Foot, and that the Chalice is with them.’

‘Why stop to auction off the rest? Why not use it?’ said Albus.

‘We don’t know. That’s the crux of the problem.’ Rose opened her hands. ‘We believe he’s here because everything he stole from Badenheim is here, and because it would be _difficult_ for him to discreetly leave the country with those objects, and the Chalice. Mum’s right, he could get his own, personal international portkey but those take time to put together. But even if he is still in the area we don’t know where he is for sure, what he’s doing, where the Chalice is… and so we need to know more.’

‘Recon,’ said Albus, scratching his chin. ‘Someone needs to go to the Rabbit’s Foot Casino and take a look around.’

‘Yes, but that’ll only get us a look on the casino floor, and it can’t be you, or me, or Selena, or Scorpius. Odds are far too good that Thane will recognise us - Selena stands an outside chance but he’s _met_ me and Scorpius, and you’re, well, Harry Potter’s son.’

Matt lifted his head. ‘So it sounds like I’m going to the casino.’

Scorpius shifted his weight, reluctant to speak. ‘I’ll spot you some money to cover being there for a few days - a week, if we’re there until the auction.’

‘All right.’ Matt didn’t look happy, but nodded. ‘Fifty galleons will do it. I’ll pay you back by the end of the week.’

‘Fifty galleons won’t last long in a fancy casino.’

‘If I _lose_ , sure.’ His smile was small, but smug.

‘This might get us a lucky glimpse at Thane, if he’s still in the area,’ said Rose, in the tone of someone eager to press on. She didn’t look at Scorpius. ‘If this Maisson has ties to the Council, it’s possible he’s lying low there, and using the casino to off-load the relics in exchange for some hard cash. But this only finds out so much. Which brings us to Guerrier’s information.’

‘Again, the man was crazy, paranoid, and wanted to kill you,’ said Selena. ‘Am I the only person with a problem with that?’

‘I found it pretty problematic,’ said Matt.

‘But he’s most angry at whoever robbed from him, and believes us that it might be Thane, or at least someone connected with Maisson. So he’s ready to help us with information about the Rabbit’s Foot,’ said Rose.

Albus lifted his hands. ‘Let me get this straight: If we can confirm Thane and the Chalice are in the casino, what’re we going to do? _Rob_ what is probably the most secure building in Europe?’

Rose hesitated. ‘Let’s take this one step at a time? Guerrier hasn’t given us any specific information. But he knows someone in the organisation who can do that: Maisson’s chief of security, a witch named Paquet. She’s apparently loyal to Maisson, but she sometimes meets Guerrier and gives him insider tips on things like the auctions, letting him know what’s going to be for sale and the kinds of people who are interested. The black market trading at the Rabbit’s Foot is quite infamous.’

‘So she’ll give him tips on how to make a good sale, which sounds like it only benefits Maisson; the money ends up in his pocket anyway,’ said Albus. ‘Why will she tell us if Thane’s there, if the Chalice is there, and how to grab them?’

‘I doubt she’ll do it willingly. But there’s one thing Guerrier can help us with which would otherwise be impossible with someone as highly placed as her in an organisation as horrendously secure as the Rabbit’s Foot: a meeting in private.’

Scorpius lifted his gaze, and tried to not flinch as the two of them made eye contact. ‘You clearly have a plan,’ he said, cutting off any further protests from Albus.

‘I do,’ said Rose. ‘We get Guerrier’s help to lure Paquet to a discreet location - then we capture her, and get all the information we need out of her.’

Albus stood quickly enough to knock his chair rattling back. ‘Absolutely not!’

Rose faced him, expression tense. ‘I know what I’m doing, Al.’

‘How the hell do you intend to get information out of someone like that? This is a _professional_ group, they’re not going to hire someone to head up their security who’ll just fold when confronted by a group of teenagers!’

‘And it’s not like we can get any Veritaserum again,’ said Scorpius. ‘Not easily.’

‘No, I’m sure she’s very well-trained,’ said Rose. ‘She’s probably excellent at Occlumency.’

Albus faltered. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

‘You and Scorpius spent the last three months training - with Dad, with Harry, working at being better, right? Did you ever wonder what I was up to in those times? Did you think you two were the only ones making ready for _something_ , because we all knew that it wasn’t over with the Council of Thorns?’ Rose tossed her hair over her shoulder. ‘I was working with Mum.’

‘Legilimency?’ Matt said.

‘I am good,’ said Rose, ‘at combat magics, at fast-acting magics. But I knew I’d never be as good as you, Albus - and that’s fine. I can fend for myself. But I figured it was time for me to branch out into something else. So, yes. Amongst other things, Legilimency. And I’m _good_ at it.’

‘Good enough to break through the Occlumency of the chief of security at one of the most famous magical casinos in the world?’ said Albus.

‘I guess we’ll see,’ said Rose. ‘But there’s our plan. Set up a meeting with Guerrier’s help. Capture Paquet, and get what we can out of her. She’ll know if Thane’s around, know what his relationship with Maisson is, know if the Chalice is in there - and maybe even know how to get there.’

‘This still leaves one problem,’ said Matt. ‘We need to _capture_ the chief of security, who’s probably shit-hot with a wand herself.’

Albus gave, at last, a thin smile. ‘Leave that to me. If you’re sure, Rosie… tell me where the meeting is, and then trust me to be able to set up an ambush.’

Selena looked between them. ‘So, Albus continued to train with his hero Auror father. Scorpius has gone from his illusions being little sparks of light to full-on duplicates of people. And Rose has learnt how to plunder secrets from people’s brains.’ She shook her head. ‘You three know you’re absolutely _mental_ , right?’

Matt shrugged. ‘I’m not. And you’re the one who stole a government dossier to then go run after a mercenary loon.’

Selena cast him a sharp, sideways glance. ‘Shut up, I know you’re still working with that magic sword - what’s that book you’ve been reading?’

He coloured. ‘ _Codex Döbringer_ ,’ he muttered. ‘A medieval text on swordsmanship and associated magical methods with -’

‘Yeah, mental.’

Albus sighed. ‘Nothing about this is normal. But that’s fine. Normal doesn’t win, and I mean to win.’ He looked at Rose and lifted a finger. ‘This doesn’t get out of hand, though. We play by the rules, and you know what the rules are. You don’t need a book to help you draw a line in the sand between right and wrong.’

Rose looked hurt. ‘Albus, I know what I’m -’

‘This goes to us all.’ He turned to the group. ‘We’re going to get Prometheus Thane, and we’re going to get the Chalice off him. And, sure, if we have to piss off the Council of Thorns, or even the Rabbit’s Foot Casino, I don’t care. But we’re going to make sure we can look each other in the eye when we get home. Or I’m pulling the plug on this whole operation.’

Selena frowned. ‘There’s more than you here -’

‘And I will _stop_ you if it looks like this is getting out of hand. We think of ourselves as the good guys. Let’s make sure we act like it. However bad they are.’

Matt quirked an eyebrow. ‘You make it sound like torturing Paquet was on the table. I must have missed that suggestion.’ An awkward silence answered him, and he sat up, clearing his throat. ‘Huh. Right. Well. Guess I better see about doing some recon at the casino.’ He looked at Selena. ‘I need to dress _good_.’

She quirked an eyebrow and looked him up and down. ‘I’ll say.’

‘You know what I mean. I’m going to learn nothing at a slot machine. I need to be at the poker tables, and I need to be with the high-rollers.’

‘Fifty galleons is going to get you to the high rollers?’ wondered Scorpius.

‘Eventually. But I need to look the part.’

‘And thus,’ said Selena, gesturing at Matt in a flamboyant manner, ‘do we get to my special skill: alchemy. Behold as I turn lead to gold.’

Matt’s expression was flat as he stood. ‘I’m starting to think you derive a special satisfaction out of ripping the shit out of me.’

‘I can’t imagine what would make you think that.’ She clapped her hands together. ‘Go get your nicest clothes on and I’ll tell you why they’re all wrong. Go on, shoo.’ He made a face, but turned for the bedroom shared by the men, Selena keeping an arch expression until the door closed behind him - then she looked to the other three. ‘You do realise this is raising the stakes,’ she said, voice flat.

‘Breaking into the Rabbit’s Foot? Abducting their staff?’ said Rose, voice airy. ‘Yes, it rather is.’

‘ _This_ is the point of no return,’ said Selena. ‘All we’ve done so far is toddle in Thane’s wake. This is taking the fight to him.’

‘I know,’ said Albus. ‘Which is, like I said, why I mean to win. Why did you wait for Matt to be gone?’

‘Because he doesn’t know what this means. Golems underground and getting drunk in catacombs and reading in libraries means nothing, really. This is the point where people will try to _kill_ us.’ Selena exhaled slowly. ‘I didn’t realise all three of you had been this crazy prepared for something to happen.’

Rose winced. ‘We knew something would happen. We just didn’t know what it was going to be.’

Scorpius shifted his weight, and suddenly found all three of them looking at him. ‘We passed the point of no return a long time ago. Maybe even when Phlegethon was let loose. If Doyle wants to tag along, that’s his call. We can’t pretend all of us have more right to be pissed at Thane than a man who was almost killed by Phlegethon.’

‘No,’ said Albus, ‘but so far we’ve only followed Thane. If this works, we’re going to take his prize and ruin his plans, and he _will_ come for us in retribution.’

‘So what else is new?’ Scorpius got to his feet. ‘I’m… going to go get my wallet and give Doyle the loan. If we want him to go lose money on the casino floor. He _does_ know this isn’t the same as playing Exploding Snap, right?’

Rose shrugged, not looking at him. ‘I know he used to play cards with Randolf, Nathaniel and John. I think he always won.’

‘Powerhouse of the gambling world that Gryffindor House is,’ said Scorpius, unable to stop a snide comment - then an awkward silence met his words and he decided it was more judicious to leave. Without looking at Rose he headed for the bedroom, stepping in without knocking to find Matt stood in front of a mirror, buttoning up a shirt.

‘Selena’s going to yell at me for not ironing this,’ he muttered as Scorpius ducked in.

‘No, no. Make snide comments at you, maybe.’

‘Oh, good. Something new.’

Despite himself, Scorpius’ lips twitched as he headed for his pack and rummaged inside for where he kept the money he travelled with, buried deep within the packing so as to not be easily extracted. Not everything could be charged direct to his Gringott’s account. ‘Fifty galleons? Are you sure that’s enough?’

‘It’ll be easy at the start,’ said Matt. ‘You just go through the smaller poker tables and play for low stakes. A lot of people will be at those who are expecting to play a few hands, lose a few galleons, and then carry on with their days. They won’t really know how to play and consider losing a little money to be part of the price of the experience. If you end up at a table with someone who knows how to play, fold, move on. I reckon I can double my money pretty quick with that, and then I’ll look to the high rollers.’

Scorpius straightened, clutching his coin-purse. ‘How the hell do you know that?’

Matt shrugged. ‘I read books.’ There was an awkward moment where he fiddled with his cuffs, making a show of examining himself in the mirror, though Scorpius could see his eyes on him in the reflection. ‘…Rose is upset.’

Scorpius’ back immediately stiffened. ‘Well, you would know, wouldn’t you.’

There was a scowl, and Matt turned. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘It means what I said.’ His lips thinned. ‘I’ve noticed you watching her.’

Matt drew a slow, deep breath. ‘…she’s upset, and it’s clearly to do with you guys considering whatever the hell happened last night, and I’m just saying you should talk to her.’

 _Fucking hell, she_ told _him?_ Indignant betrayal flared in his gut, and he was surprised by how furiously familiar the sensation was. Scorpius’ fists clenched. ‘It sounds like you’ve been doing plenty of the talking for me.’

‘Jesus Christ, Malfoy, I’m trying to _help_ -’

‘Why the hell should I accept your help? Why the hell would _you_ want to help me -’

‘For Rose!’ Matt barked, then realised that the walls might not be all that thick, and his voice lowered to a tense hiss. His shoulders squared as the two of them faced off against one another. ‘Because I am respecting her judgement, even if you’re an obnoxious little prick who’s clearly hurt her, and hurt her badly, and if _she_ wants to be happy with _you_ , however crazy that might be, I’d rather see her happy than crying on me!’

‘Really.’ A muscle twitched in the corner of Scorpius’ jaw, and he took a few determined steps forward. ‘I would have thought you’d _love_ that, wouldn’t you, her weeping on you and telling you everything that’s wrong with the relationship? Seeing as you’re just _waiting_ in the wings to swoop in and get her back.’

Matt’s gaze flickered across his face for a moment - then his expression darkened. ‘Yeah, you know what? _Fuck_ you, Malfoy. I have tried being civil to you and you have been an enormous _prick_ to me for _no_ reason other than that I’m Rose’s ex. What is it, you feel threatened? Can’t imagine _why_ , when you push her away like this, and show no interest in the things she cares about at the _best_ of times. This was me doing you a favour. This was me trying to respect this relationship. When it’s fucking obvious that you _don’t_ -’

‘Don’t you make assumptions on me and my damned personal business -’

‘Fine. I won’t.’ Matt jabbed a finger in his chest. ‘Consider this _respect_ of mine over, though. Rose isn’t like these insecure girls you’ve swept after for years, impressed by some pretty words and a bunch of flowers -’

‘And she’s more than just a bookworm who needs flouncy words and a dry, dusty volume to be impressed,’ Scorpius sneered. ‘Or, you know, _excited_ , but I guess it’s clear you never figured _that_ out.’

Matt’s fist clenched, and for a moment Scorpius thought he was going to hit him. But instead he looked away and let out a long, shaking breath, fighting for his composure. ‘I’m not going to demean Rose by implying that you and I get to squabble over her and the best man “wins”. She’s smart. She’s self-aware. She’s got self-respect. So she’s not going to put up with your bullshit forever, and you have now relieved me of _any_ guilt I might have felt about making it _damned_ clear where my interests lie.’

He turned to go past him, but Scorpius shifted his weight, and their shoulders bashed into each other. ‘Really, Doyle? So keen to be second choice, are you?’

‘No,’ said Matt, and gave him a smile that wouldn’t melt butter. ‘Just last choice. Now, if you’d be so kind, you offered me a loan so I could do actual work - and just to make this sweeter, I will have double your money by the end of the week.’

Scorpius scowled, digging into his pouch to pull out the fistful of galleons, which he shoved into Matt’s hand. ‘Keep it,’ he sneered. ‘Plenty more where that came from. Buy yourself a shirt that fits properly.’

‘Oh, no. See, I don’t use blood money for my own gain, and I repay all my debts.’

Now it was Scorpius’ turn to be incited almost to violence, but the door creaked open and in stepped Albus, wearing the neutral expression he reserved for when he knew everything was going wrong. ‘You guys good?’ he said, voice falsely light.

Matt pulled out his coin-purse to slip the galleons away. ‘Yeah,’ he said, gaze not leaving Scorpius’, stormy grey against piercing blue.

‘Tickety-boo,’ said Scorpius, refusing to look away first.

‘Good,’ said Albus in a voice which would brook no misbehaviour. ‘Selena’s looking at cravats, Matt. It’s going to be a long day of being a clothes horse.’

Matt gave an exaggerated sigh, and turned to go. ‘A hard life I lead, being fussed over by women,’ he said, wandering through the door.

Albus closed it behind him and looked to Scorpius. ‘What the hell is going on?’

‘Just a difference of opinion,’ he muttered, stowing his coin-purse.

‘I thought I heard shouting.’

Scorpius hesitated. ‘Did the others?’

‘If so, they ignored it. Are we going to have a problem?’

‘I’m not making a problem. I’m getting on with things. What do you need me to do? Don’t you have an ambush to get on with planning?’

‘Yeah. Rose is doing prep-work for Legilimency. Selena is helping prep Matt for infiltrating.’

‘Oh, do I get to be the class clown again, with no useful talents to contribute except for maybe helping someone else do something they’re perfectly capable of doing themselves? I do so _love_ that -’

‘I need illusions,’ said Albus flatly. ‘We have pictures of Guerrier and Rose has met him. I need you to put together an illusion of him standing at the meeting point to lull Paquet into a false sense of security.’

‘Life-like illusions are _hard_ -’

‘It won’t need to be perfect because it’s going to be dark. But if you get it wrong, it’ll spook Paquet and the whole thing will be off. I want her to be ready to approach and then we slam her. Dispelling charms from Rose to break down any defences she might have up, and then Selena and I Stun her to hell and back. I won’t be hit by any hanging Shields again like I was against Downing. But we need her to not be on her guard.’

Scorpius opened his hands. ‘You want to base this plan off me doing something I’ve never done before? I didn’t need a good illusion to fool a troll -’

‘I’m basing this plan off lots of people’s strengths. You’re just part of it. If it goes wrong, she’s spooked and we have a fight. If it works, everything’s easier.’ Albus’ expression was flat. ‘You’ve wanted to have a job which matters, which you can prepare for and be relied upon, as opposed to backing people up? This is it. This is your job. It’ll keep you busy, it’ll work you hard, and you have every excuse to not deal with Rose or anyone else until it’s done.’ His gaze did soften around the edges. ‘And I’m here if you need me, mate.’

‘All right.’ Scorpius rubbed his temples. ‘I’m sorry. Thanks. I can do this.’ His lips twitched. ‘You know, if you told me to fly to the moon, and that you thought I could do it, I’d try ‘til it killed me?’

Albus gave a wry grin, stepping forward to clap him on the shoulder. ‘Just as well I only ask you to do things I _know_ you can do, then.’

* *

Monaco-Ville was almost dead at night. The quiet, quaint, narrow streets which had changed very little since the Middle Ages were not to where the tourist-driven night life of the region flocked; that was across the bay, down in Monte Carlo proper, with its sights and sounds and bars in one of the most densely-populated urban regions in the whole world. Up here on the Rock, streets which would hustle and bustle in the day and the early evening became subdued, and as night’s shroud fell, it could have been a hundred miles away.

Which suited their needs entirely. They were down a dark alleyway not too far from Guerrier’s home, and thus it was no difficult feat for Rose to manipulate the extant anti-Muggle wards to spread this far. Guerrier had assured her that Paquet would not want to meet at his house; she preferred to meet far from prying eyes so none of his staff knew of their connection. This way, she remained confident they would go uninterrupted.

Or as confident as she could be under the circumstances. She wasn’t sure how much she trusted Guerrier, who had been all-too happy to set up someone who had once been a contact of his, so long as she vowed to wipe the memories of the incident and leave their business relationship intact. When Rose pointed out that if there was a breach in the Rabbit’s Foot’s security based off Paquet’s information it might lead to her being a less-than-useful contact in the future, the old man had smiled and shrugged and said no resource lasted forever - and if this brought him vengeance upon the thieves, then so much the better.

Vengeance. They kept running into that word. Selena had spoken of it in Badenheim, swearing to hunt Thane to the ends of the Earth if necessary, and not for justice - for the sake of making herself feel better. As if anything was going to make her feel better.

Selena had been more subdued and cautious in the two days since Paris, Rose mused to herself as she lurked in the shadow of a doorway to some Muggle house, waiting for the time of the meeting. They had a good fifteen minutes yet, and while she had no desire to distract herself, it was hard for the mind to not wander while they waited. Her part was done until Paquet showed.

They’d spent last night, their first night in Monaco, down in this alleyway, checking it out in the dark. A whole day to go over their plan, talk to Guerrier, make ready. Scorpius had locked himself away in his room, ostensibly practising the illusions, and she’d been of no mind to stop him, interrupt him. Talk to him. Her own preparation had kept her busy enough, and she preferred to focus on that than anything else. Anything personal.

So it was only now, as she stood in the dark and wondered why they did what they did, that she realised something else was chewing on Selena, and Rose quietly cursed herself for having been so self-absorbed as to not notice. She’d dismissed it unconsciously as being further grief for Methuselah - as if that was irrelevant, or as if there was nothing more to say on such a topic - without considering that this was something new.

Was it closeness to Thane? Now they had a good lead, a good chance of catching him, running into him. And what would they do? Capture him? They had no legal grounds to do that. Kill him? No legal grounds either, but easier to cover up -

\- and there she was, stood in the dark, considering murder. Right before she tried to abduct and plunder the mind of someone who’d done nothing wrong, who was simply the next step in front of them.

_Why are you here, Rose? Do you hate Thane that much?_

No, she reasoned to herself. She knew he needed stopping, but she didn’t feel the fervent hate she’d heard in Selena’s voice, the driving, burning need for resolution she sometimes saw in Scorpius’ eyes. She didn’t even feel the ardent determination she saw in Albus on occasion, principle pushing him to one moment argue against an abduction, the next have the broad strokes of a plan laid out, as if this had cooked behind closed doors even as he objected. Always thinking, always planning, always preparing for what came next.

She didn’t have that streak of helplessness that empowered Matt to act. So why was she there? For them, she suspected. To see them through this. And, she wondered, perhaps, to be ready to stop them.

But if she was to be there for them, she would have to see to Selena.

Footsteps thudded along cobbles, and Rose stopped breathing for a few heartbeats until she realised this was stupid. It could have been someone other than Paquet, and even if it was Paquet, she would not rush. She shifted her stance to cast a look down the alleyway, not towards the footsteps but towards where they were going.

Guerrier had offered to tell Paquet it would be an associate of his who would be handling the meeting, but she had assured him this wouldn’t be necessary. Scorpius had cleverly put the illusion just at the edge of the circle of light from the nearest street-light to the meeting spot, casting sharp shadows down upon the humanoid figure who stood there. Albus had wondered if that was going to make it harder, but Scorpius had shook his head. Light and dark were the first tricks in illusion magic. Precision and details were the hard part, especially when it came to producing facsimiles of people - the small movements, the little nuances in appearance and demeanour. The odder the surroundings, such as erratic light, the less an observer would pay attention to such details.

She hoped. Or the illusion of Guerrier would look even odder and the whole thing would fall apart.

To her eyes, the figure Scorpius had produced who stood down the alleyway looked like a damned fine impersonation of the person Paquet was expecting to see, but she reminded herself this was what she wanted to think, to believe. Paquet knew Guerrier better, and was likely a paranoid individual anyway.

So all they could do was hope.

Albus was positioned further down the alleyway, nearer the illusion so he could smack Paquet with a Stun at closer range. Rose would remain shrouded in a spot Paquet would pass, though with the absolute darkness and her camouflaging charm she was confident she would go unnoticed. Selena was nearby, the nooks and crannies of the road making it perfect for this ambush.

Which would, she feared, raise Paquet’s paranoia.

Rose hefted her wand and crouched down behind the pillar to watch, shifting her gaze to get a fix on the witch. Paquet was an older woman, streaks of grey running through a tightly-bound bun, but despite this austere demeanour her garb was plain, hard-wearing. Only by pictures that Guerrier had provided could she identify her, otherwise she could have easily been a local who’d outwitted the anti-Muggle charms somehow.

Not holding her breath was hard. Not moving her wand to see if there were any defensive charms already up and protecting her was even harder, an instinct to make ready as much as she could curbed by the need for secrecy. This was why they had so many of them - she would drop a dispelling charm at Paquet no matter what, and Selena would throw the first Stun just to make sure. That left Albus to finish her off - or free to react if it didn’t work, and by the time he’d acted then she, Rose, would be ready to do something again, and Scorpius would be in backup with the illusion abandoned -

_This isn’t like Downing. We’re better than we were._

She slowed her breathing instead, steadied it as Paquet unsuspectingly approached the illusion, hand in her pocket and obviously gripping the wand there, and she stopped some ten metres down the alleyway. Rose bit her lip; she was much further away than they’d hoped for, too far for Selena to get a strong line of sight on her even if Albus could step out into the open with the benefit of the Invisibility Cloak.

‘Monsieur Guerrier?’

Two things struck Rose at once, twisting her gut cold when she realised. The first was that Scorpius couldn’t make his illusion talk to assure Paquet it was fine, that she could approach further.

The second was that even if he could, the only person who spoke French anyway was Matt, right then on the casino floor at the Rabbit’s Foot.

To Scorpius’ credit, the illusion turned and gave her a deep, polite nod, as if acknowledging her and beckoning her closer - but the shadows shifted oddly across the skin as his work failed to be sophisticated enough to keep up with this movement more significant than what they’d counted on -

\- and Paquet drew her wand.

‘Shit,’ Rose hissed under her breath, edging towards the corner of her doorway. They still outnumbered Paquet and were still hidden, but the element of surprise was no longer theirs.

Then there was the sound of crashing tiles from back the way Paquet had come, and the witch wheeled around, wand flashing in the gloom. Without thinking, Rose whipped her wand out with the words of the dispelling charm blazing bright in her mind. She didn’t know what had made that sound, but Paquet was distracted and it would have to do, and she was rewarded with the energies rippling across a hanging Shield around Paquet - before the Shield dissipated into nothing.

_This isn’t like Downing. We’re better than we were._

Selena’s Stun came darting down the dark street to thud into Paquet from behind, and the witch staggered - but remained upright, the fabric of her jacket rippling with its own protective charms, a secondary layer they had considered a possibility, and Rose swished her wand, preparing another dispell just in case, because Albus hadn’t acted yet -

Then Albus’ Stun shot from a completely different spot to the one Rose had thought he’d be shooting from, and hit Paquet in the head. With barely a gurgle, she dropped to the ground and stayed there.

‘ _Incarcerous_!’ That was Scorpius’ voice from above, loud and clear. As the ropes shot down from the balcony where he’d lurked out of sight, Rose realised his illusion of Guerrier, botched despite their best efforts, had disappeared. But the bindings wrapped themselves around Paquet, trussing up her unresisting form..

Albus stepped out from the shadows, pulling his Invisibility Cloak off, and Selena came after, looking disgruntled. ‘Good work, everyone,’ he called out as Rose, too, slunk out to join them. ‘We got her.’

‘Sorry,’ called out Scorpius from above. ‘We didn’t factor on, you know. Speaking. Just as well we’re fucking geniuses, hey?’

‘What was that crash?’ Rose asked, looking the direction Paquet had come as Albus crouched over her, making sure that she was fully bound and unconscious. ‘It distracted her enough to let me get a shot off…’

‘That was me,’ said Albus calmly as he stood. ‘I saw her balk at the illusion and I’d set up a triggered blast on the tiles down there earlier. I didn’t think it would be needed.’

Scorpius had swung over the balcony railing and dropped to the ground with the lightness of foot which surprised Rose until she remembered his Quidditch playing. ‘If banking on my skills, always have a backup,’ he said.

The self-deprecating was not charming right then. Rose cleared her throat. ‘Yes, we’ve all done well, but this is only half of the problem,’ she said, voice firm. ‘Let’s get her out of here. I would be surprised if we can keep her captive for more than five hours before the Rabbit’s Foot realises she’s gone, and then anything we learn about their security is going to be suspect.’

Albus’ lips thinned as he flicked his wand to levitate Paquet. ‘You think you can get everything you want out of her head in five hours.’

Rose gave a humourless smile. ‘If five hours is all we have, then I’m going to have to, aren’t I?’


	16. In a Dream World

‘She’s tied up and unconscious in our bedroom,’ said Rose as she came out of the girls’ room into the apartment living room. ‘I think she’s as secure as she’s going to be. I’m going to make every effort to ensure she doesn’t wake up until she’s back home.’ 

‘I’m _totally_ sleeping on the couch or in the boys’ room,’ said Selena archly. ‘I’m not going to try to have a nap while you rip apart someone’s brain in the same room, and I’m not waiting for this farce to be over. Wake me if she tries to kill us all.’ And without another word she sauntered over to the boys’ room, not even waiting for Albus or Scorpius to object or permit. 

Albus rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll go to the Rabbit’s Foot,’ he said. ‘Warn Matt. He can keep an eye on security there to see if they’re spooked.’ 

‘And, what, run to tell us?’ Scorpius raised an eyebrow. 

‘It’s better than nothing. Scorp, help keep watch here.’ 

Scorpius sighed as Albus headed for the door - and Rose tensed as she realised it was just the two of them, alone together for the first time in days. The first time since - 

‘Are you okay?’ The words slipped past her lips before she could think. If she’d thought, she’d have remembered now wasn’t time to get into this. 

‘You have a long night’s work ahead,’ he said, and she recognised the tone of his voice, the look in his eyes. It was the same hunted gaze he’d worn last winter, when she’d not left Hector and had hurt him, and old, familiar guilt twisted in her gut. ‘You should get to it.’ 

Rose opened her mouth to object - then realised, despite his obvious evasion, that he was right. ‘We’ll talk later,’ she said, and it wasn’t a request. 

And despite his dismissal, his lip curled. ‘Oh, you _want_ to talk?’ 

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ 

‘Nothing,’ he lied. ‘I just figured you’d be happy enough talking to _Matt_.’ 

Rose looked at him, bewildered. ‘…and what’s _he_ got to do with _us_?’ 

Scorpius’ eyes flashed, but he squared his shoulders and stalked to the sofa. ‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter. You’ve got your mind-rending to do. Go do.’ 

While she objected to being talked to like that, there was a long list of things which happened in her interactions with Scorpius these days that she objected to, and it didn’t seem the time to get caught up in such issues. So she merely scowled at him and stomped back to the room where she’d left Paquet trussed up in a chair, head lolling forwards, slumped in unconsciousness. 

This was what mattered, Rose told herself. Not Scorpius. Not Matt, not Albus, not Selena. Not the world outside these walls. Just her and the other witch. 

She slung her jacket on her bed and sat at the foot of it, fiddling with her wand, casting no magic for a long time but simply running through the process in her mind. Half of Legilimency was planning, her mother had told her. You didn’t rush into someone else’s mind and start looting, and above all, the Legilimens needed the discipline to ensure the tables weren’t turned. 

Nevertheless, there was a reason many Legilimens used a Pensieve, and she didn’t have one of those. So she was just going to have to be better and smarter. Than a head of security in a world-class organisation. 

Rose gave a slow, shaking exhale. She’d been told she was better than everyone else, smarter than everyone else, for approximately half her life. Then she’d met Methuselah Jones and this fiction had been rather cruelly destroyed. There were no prizes for coming second place. 

But she didn’t have to be the best person in the world - and that competition was easier now Methuselah Jones was dead. Right now, she just had to be the best person in this room. 

The best person in Amanda Paquet’s head. 

Rose closed her eyes, extended her wand, extended her _mind_ , and murmured, ‘ _Legilimens_.’ And she was no longer in Monte Carlo.

* * 

It was a bare, grey landscape, grey skies, the ground underneath rocky and flat, no sound on the air but the echo of their own breathing. It was barren and desolate and an absolutely perfect blank canvas for what was to come ahead. And she and Paquet were sat at a chessboard in the middle of the wasteland. 

Paquet arched a superior eyebrow at the pieces on the board. ‘Why are we here?’ 

‘Because this is what I choose,’ said Rose. She was white, of course - hers was the first move, of course - and so she decided to use her father’s favourite opening, hand moving with confidence to shift the piece along the board. 

‘This isn’t a dream. This is a metaphor. You’re in my mind.’ 

Rose tried to not look surprised. ‘You’re very good.’ 

‘I’m trained to be very good. But you’re rather good, too. Usually people start out just trying to root through my memories.’ Paquet moved her first piece. ‘But this is…hmm. Control. If you can overwhelm my mind here, then you won’t be fighting me every step of the way. If my mind’s a building, everyone else breaks through a window and loots what they can while the alarm’s going off. You’re trying to jimmy the door and avoid the alarm altogether.’ 

‘That is,’ said Rose, ‘the general idea.’ 

It wasn’t as if she meant to talk, to explain. But then, this wasn’t really happening. She was coming to Paquet with this game, this vista, and forcing it upon the other woman’s mind. What Paquet extrapolated from the situation was completely out of Rose’s control, and in this case, the other witch had assessed the Legilimency perfectly. This wasn’t a huge surprise. She would be trained in Occlumency, after all. 

And even if Paquet knew what was going on, it didn’t mean she could stop her. 

‘So, why chess?’ said Paquet. 

‘I’m hammering through your mental defences as we speak,’ said Rose, taking one of Paquet’s pawns. ‘A game of chess is the most appropriate way my mind can depict this. It’s a challenge of wits, knowledge, expertise. And, frankly, I’m better than you at breaking mental defences, and at chess. I’ll win.’ 

Paquet made her next move, defensive rather than offensive. ‘You _are_ good,’ she agreed. ‘How come?’ 

Rose moved her knight. ‘My father taught me,’ she said - then Paquet’s rook came as if from nowhere to take her knight, and the entire grey vista around them rumbled underfoot. She froze. That had been a personal admission and the loss of a key chess piece. She wasn’t supposed to volunteer information. She wasn’t supposed to make a blunder in the game like that. 

The tables were turning. 

‘Your father taught you well. He plays chess a lot?’ Even though Paquet was like the mouse who’d suddenly turned monstrous before the cat, her voice was light, conversational. Rose had to move her bishop to protect the queen, and though Paquet didn’t press that offensive, she began shifting pieces along the other flank. 

Sweat broke out on Rose’s forehead. ‘Only sometimes. He’s an Auror. But he likes chess. He -’ 

The space to her left, the blank grey vista of nothing, shifted, the air shimmering, and as Rose had expected, figures appeared as if from nowhere. But when she’d been banking on seeing something from Paquet, when she was supposed to populate this empty space with her enemy’s recollections and thoughts, the tables had been far too sharply turned, and instead what appeared was another chessboard and another pair of figures at it, sat upon comfortable armchairs. 

‘Checkmate!’ said the little red-haired girl, giggling with glee. ‘I beat you! I finally beat you!’ 

Rose watched as her father broke into pleased laughter, getting to his feet and sweeping her younger self into a hug. ‘Fair and square, little Rosie.’ 

Her younger self pulled back to give her father an accusing look. ‘You didn’t let me?’ 

Her father hunkered down next to the chair. ‘You think I _let_ people beat me at chess? You’ve gone and taken your old man’s tricks and added your mother’s patience.’ Ron Weasley’s brow furrowed. ‘Well. She’s more patient than _me_.’ 

Her younger self’s smile turned sad. ‘I’m going to miss these games.’ 

Her father squeezed her shoulder. ‘I know, Rosie. Me too. But I promise, you’re going to be so busy at Hogwarts, learning things and having a great time, it’ll be Christmas before you know it. Speaking of which…’ He put his free hand on the board. ‘Pack up the board. It’s yours. Don’t tell your mother I’m giving you a treat as _well_ as that blasted cat.’ 

Rose’s younger self looked petulant. ‘Artemis didn’t _mean_ to steal your bacon…’ 

‘I think she knew _exactly_ what she was doing.’ Ron Weasley’s smile turned wry. ‘But take the board. You can play at Hogwarts with Al.’ 

‘Al’s no good!’ 

‘Then teach him!’ 

And the memory faded into nothingness, leaving them again sat in the dreary bleak wasteland. Rose’s brow crinkled. That hadn’t been _exactly_ how it happened - she hadn’t beaten her father for the first time on the very last game before Hogwarts, but he _had_ given her the chessboard before she’d left, and she’d vowed to get Albus into the game so they could play together - 

‘How sweet,’ said Paquet, and took a pawn. 

Rose’s gut twisted and her gaze swept back down to the chessboard. ‘Congratulations,’ she sneered. ‘You know I was a child, once.’ 

‘I know who you are, Rose Weasley. I might not be British but I can recognise one of your national heroes when I see them. Did you ever play chess with “Al”?’ 

\- who’d been Sorted into Slytherin and the board had accumulated dust as Hestia and Cheryl showed no interest and playing with the dark-haired Doyle boy a couple of times a year wasn’t the _same_ \- 

‘No,’ said Rose, and shifted some pawns to shore up her defences while she could arrange her heavier hitters. 

‘Oh, that hurt,’ said Paquet. ‘Why not?’ 

And the vista shifted again. 

_‘Malfoy, Scorpius!’_   
  
_‘Slytherin!’_   
  
_‘Potter, Albus!’_   
  
_A long silence as Albus placed the Sorting Hat on his head. The longest silence imaginable, in fact, as the furrows on the Hat shifted as if it was thinking, and Albus_ _’ eyes were screwed shut. Happy certainty turned to cold worry in her gut - why wasn’t it calling out? This was Harry Potter’s son, why wasn’t this the easiest call it had ever made -_   
  
_‘…Slytherin!’_   
  
_And a cold hush fell upon the Great Hall, the faces of everyone stunned - but with three people astonished above all others as Albus calmly stood, removed the Hat, and proceeded to the Slytherin table. In horror, Rose_ _’s gaze sought James, whose jaw had actually dropped, before she watched Albus make it to the table, where he stopped at the astonished Malfoy boy, clapped him on the shoulder, then sat down next to him._   
  
_And Rose knew nothing was ever going to be the same again_. 

‘…it’s done very differently at Beauxbatons,’ mused Paquet. ‘It all looks rather silly.’ 

Rose furrowed her brow as she watched the dreary grey landscape return. ‘It is,’ she mused. ‘That was a long time ago.’ Then she took another of Paquet’s pawns. 

Paquet scowled. ‘It seems to have left its mark.’ 

‘Lots of things have left their mark. I got past this one. I was a child, children take bumps and scrapes all the time. The important thing is that Albus is family, and I love him, and we’re closer now than we’ve ever been. He’s my best friend.’ 

‘Are you his?’ 

Rose deftly moved her bishop to guard her remaining knight. ‘That’s a pretty juvenile attitude to take. You could say we _both_ value Scorpius more than we value each other. Isn’t that silly?’ She gave a wry but sincere chuckle, and looked the other woman in the eye. ‘Do you know Prometheus Thane?’ 

The air flickered to the right, though all she was rewarded with was the shifting, static form of the man she’d never _properly_ met in the flesh - when they’d been in that hole in the ground in the Forbidden Forest he’d been cloaked, hooded, and he’d Stunned her before he’d revealed himself. 

‘He’s at the Rabbit’s Foot,’ said Paquet, voice mechanical, and Rose took her bishop. ‘He’s one of Monsieur Maisson’s associates. He brought with him the items for the next auction. Six of them, ancient artifacts. They will be sold next Friday to the highest bidder. Monsieur Maisson is going to take a cut of the profits but the rest will go to these associates of Monsieurs Maisson and Thane. The Council of Thorns.’ 

‘When will Thane leave?’ 

‘After the auction, with the proceeds.’ 

‘Are they all being sold?’ Rose moved up her offensive line of pawns, pushing back the front Paquet had launched earlier. 

‘No,’ said Paquet, desperately trying to shield her queen. ‘There’s one he’s had secured away from them. Something personal but valuable.’ 

‘Do you know what it is?’ 

‘No.’ 

Rose scowled as Paquet blocked her next thrust, and focused on the other side of the board. ‘How many people does he have with him?’ 

‘There are seven of them in total,’ said Paquet. ‘Thane is not the one dealing with Monsieur Maisson. The Colonel does that.’ And the air next to Thane’s form shifted to show that of a tall, austere wizard, grey-haired but built as if carved from stone, his craggy features as stern and cold as granite. ‘Colonel Raskoph. He is old, but he is the one who is dealing with the money, the business. Monsieur Maisson sees Thane as a business partner - but he is afraid of Raskoph.’ 

‘And the others?’ 

‘Five of them, Thane’s men. Mercenaries. Most are just brutes, but there are two who stand out. A woman, but also a brutish man -’ 

The air shimmered next to Raskoph and Thane to show the squat, square form of Elijah Downing. A second started to form, too, presumably the woman, but the sight of Downing made the old, ivory scars across Rose’s abdomen screamed in recollection, and it dissipated. 

Paquet took a pawn. ‘You know him.’ 

‘He almost killed me,’ said Rose before she could stop herself, and the vista to the right turned to snow, and white, and cold, and pain. ‘We planned, we planned so hard how we could ambush him, all that planning and all that surprise, and he still beat me…’ 

‘He is just one of them,’ said Paquet. ‘They are all excellent. He is just one, and he beat you. You would take them all on?’ 

Rose gritted her teeth and looked Paquet in the eye. ‘We beat you. We’re better than we were.’ She took her rook. ‘And we’ll beat them, too.’ 

‘How?’ said Paquet. ‘What do you have to beat a group of mercenaries? You’re a good Legilimens, do not mistake me. You’ll need to be a well-oiled team to beat these kinds of professionals. Are you?’ 

It probably wasn’t Occlumency on Paquet’s part which had Rose responding not with aversion or confidence - but open laughter. ‘Professionals,’ she giggled. ‘You could say that.’ 

And the air to her left shifted from ice and snow to her four companions - Albus, first and foremost, the only other one of them she’d confidently take to deal with Thane and his men, the only one she’d _follow_ to deal with Thane and his men. Then Scorpius, and his form was shaky and indistinct as she tried to not think too hard about _him_ , then Matt, quick with a wand and working with that ridiculous sword but who still had no _real_ idea what he was up against, and Selena, who wasn’t the best with magic or the best with planning and yet somehow kept them struggling through… 

Paquet looked at Scorpius. ‘Him, again,’ she mused. ‘You veer away from him.’ 

Then the grey vista wasn’t a barren landscape anymore - but pitch blackness. This wasn’t another visual replica of an event or a person, but the facsimile of a _sense_. That bedroom in Paris, that intimacy and warmth, ripped away so suddenly to be replaced by coldness, loneliness, rejection, guilt - 

And when that faded they were in the gloomy grey wasteland and Paquet took Rose’s queen. ‘…and yet you _do_ keep coming back to him. Running back to him. Check.’ 

_Shit._ All Rose could do was move her king one square over. ‘It’s not your business -’ 

‘You’re in _my_ head, that’s a poor response. _He_ rejects _you_ and you still feel guilty about it? Check.’ 

The thump of her king moving away. ‘I did something wrong -’ 

‘Like you did last time? Check.’ 

‘I _hurt_ him -’ 

‘You hurt him before, and that was all your fault last time, so that makes it all your fault this time. Check.’ 

Rose’s head was spinning, and she opened her mouth to respond, reached her hand out automatically to just move the king away - then stopped. _Focus. You_ _’re better than this. One wrong move and you’ll be out of her mind and there’s no way you can try to break it twice in one night, you’ll be too drained._   
  
She let out a deep breath. ‘Maybe it _is_ all my fault,’ she said, voice low. ‘But there’s one thing you’ve not figured out.’ 

‘Oh? More crippling teenaged insecurities for me to use to kick you the hell out of my mind?’ 

‘No.’ Rose reached for her bishop, and knocked down the rook who had been threatening her king, destroying the breach behind her lines. ‘That maybe you’re right. Maybe it is all my fault. I hurt him before, betrayed him before. I let him down. I abandoned him when he was at his worst, rejected him when he was vulnerable. I had my reasons but he was still hurt. So perhaps this is just my chickens coming home to roost, the consequences of my actions, a punishment I deserve and will have to suffer.’ 

‘So what’s the one thing I’ve not figured out?’ 

‘That I know and accept this. That it doesn’t matter here and now. Because we’re still in _your_ mind- and I’m _better_ than you. How’s _your_ life beyond work?’ 

Images flashed up on the right side, witches and wizards she didn’t recognise, but Paquet’s lined face flickered. ‘Work keeps me busy -’ 

And then facts and knowledge rolled before Rose, as they had to have rolled before Paquet when she’d pierced her defences, a whole vista of the invasion of someone else’s life and memories. ‘So busy your children don’t talk to you any more?’ She moved her knight forward to seize Paquet’s queen. ‘So busy your husband’s probably having an affair in his office? Wow.’ Paquet’s desperate defensive move was cracked through with crippling ease. ‘And yet, even at work, you think one of your employees is cooking the books and you can’t _catch_ them when that’s your _job_? Check.’ 

Paquet squirmed and moved her king away from danger. ‘I am excellent at my job -’ 

‘Yes,’ Rose agreed. ‘You’re an excellent chief of security, which is why you know everything there is to know about the defences of the Rabbit’s Foot Casino. You’re also excellent at Occlumency, which makes it unfortunate that you’ve come across a _superior_ Legilimens, who is going to know everything _you_ know about your work.’ She reached for her rook and moved it across the board to back up her knight, the two pieces trapping Paquet’s king. Their eyes met as the featureless grey vista faded, images rising and swirling to surround them, snapshots of Paquet’s life now completely unleashed, unprotected, at Rose’s mercy to be sifted through and studied. 

‘Check and mate,’ said Rose in a low voice. ‘I win. Tell me _everything_.’

* * 

‘Tea. Drink it.’ Selena pushed the cup across the café table. ‘You look like death warmed up.’ 

‘I feel it,’ groaned Rose, her sunglasses on even though they were sat in the shade, the streets of Monaco-Ville tumbling before them. ‘Honestly, this is worse than that time Cheryl got Randolf to sneak pumpkin schnapps into the common room Christmas before last…’ 

Selena’s eyes lit up, and she leaned forward as she stirred her coffee. ‘I’ve not heard _this_ story.’ 

‘It was _very_ silly. Hestia declared her undying love for John and spent the evening sobbing on the steps when he turned her down. Cheryl and Randolf started _singing_ , and Matt and I -’ Her cheeks coloured. ‘Well, we were going out then.’ 

‘Drunken fumblings, the most _romantic_ of teenaged entanglements.’ There was a melodramatic sigh. ‘So the morning after Legilimency is a lot like a hangover.’ 

‘Legilimency, writing down _everything_ I saw and heard and using charms to make sure I did it as accurately as possible, _and_ altering Paquet’s memory. She won’t remember a thing, and Albus got her back in her home within four hours of her abduction. So, it was a busy night, but it was successful. I’m allowed to feel like hell.’ 

‘Drink it.’ Selena stabbed a finger at the tea. ‘You’ll feel better.’ 

‘Actually, I feel like I’m going to throw up.’ But Rose obliged and had a sip, then peered over her sunglasses at her friend. ‘So what’s going on with you?’ 

Selena blinked. ‘ _Me_? You’re the one who had a tough night and you and Scorpius -’ 

‘I asked first, don’t try that. You’ve been subdued and sorry for yourself since we left Paris.’ 

She tossed her hair. ‘Am I not allowed to be? Surely the least you can permit is that I’m _sorry_ for yourself.’ 

‘I’m _concerned_ , Selena. We’ve been busy, but now we’re not. Something’s happened.’ Rose took her sunglasses off and tried to make her squinting look sympathetic. ‘Tell me.’ 

Selena looked away, the mask of control fumbling. ‘I kissed Matt.’ 

‘What?’ 

‘Or he kissed me - it was a mutual - it was stupid, okay? We did it, we realised _immediately_ that it was dumb, we waved it off, we had a perfectly pleasant evening getting quite merry and him getting really drunk to beat ancient illusions. It was stupid because were both needy and dumb and the other was there, and it’s not an _issue_ …’ 

Rose tried to not think about why _Matt_ had been needy and dumb. ‘I didn’t notice you two being awkward at each other, no.’ 

‘Because it’s not a thing.’ Selena bit her lip, not looking at her still. ‘…he’s the first person I kissed since Methuselah…’ 

‘Oh, Selena…’ Rose sighed, reaching for her hand. ‘I’m sorry. This doesn’t make you a bad person, it doesn’t mean you’re forgetting or disrespecting him -’ 

‘Which would be worse? Kissing someone who means nothing? Or kissing someone who _did_ mean something, moving _on_ …’ 

‘Moving on’s not a crime - _are_ you moving on with Matt?’ Rose tried to not wrinkle her nose. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that prospect. 

‘No! Hell, no!’ Selena looked stricken. ‘I don’t have a _type_ for the brainy. _He_ _’s_ arrogant and condescending and while he can be sweet and he’s a bit adorable when he rambles, he’s also broody as hell and his ego _and_ insecurities are the sort of cocktails I leave to _you_ , Rose. He was there. It was no more complicated than that. It could have happened with Albus, except I figured a _long_ time ago that _he_ _’s_ not my type. It was just one of those things. I felt down, and you know how it is when you’re friends with boys, there’s that period where you figure out if you’re _really_ just friends or if there’s a spark…’ Her voice trailed off, and she waved a dismissive hand. ‘Turns out he and I are really just friends.’ 

‘But you’re rattled.’ 

Selena’s expression pinched. ‘I explained that. It feels like a betrayal. Methuselah’s only a few months dead and here I am, running around like a slut -’ 

‘You are _not_ , there is _nothing_ wrong with you kissing whoever you feel like kissing for whatever reason!’ said Rose hotly. ‘Kisses aren’t disasters!’ 

‘Your track record would imply otherwise.’ 

‘We’re not _talking_ about me.’ 

‘Except we’re done with me - I know it’s silly, I feel bad about it, I’ll get _over_ it. I don’t really want to dissect how much I feel like a horrible person, because I already have grief pretty well ripped apart, I don’t think I need to also figure out _guilt_ to that extent. So what the hell’s going on with you and Scorpius?’ 

Rose winced. ‘I don’t… I don’t know.’ 

‘But something did happen. In Paris.’ 

‘Or _didn_ _’t_.’ Shame swirled to the forefront, utter shame, and it was Rose’s turn to look away. ‘We were - we made it back to the hotel room, and things were getting, _you_ know, and then he - he just pulled back, freaked out, basically _ran_ out the room, and since then he’s been this vicious sneering mess at me like he used to be, like he’s _angry_ with me… and I don’t know why!’ She’d tried to be controlled. But worry had wormed in, worry and insecurity and she found her words tumbling over one another. 

It was Selena’s turn to reach for her hand, touch reassuring. ‘Scorpius does this. I’m not saying it’s okay. But him being a sulky git, lashing out at everyone else for things which are his fault is pretty much his go-to choice when it comes to reacting badly to something. That doesn’t mean it’s your fault.’ 

‘I don’t know _what_ it is, he didn’t say - I mean, maybe we should have talked about it more, we started to in Badenheim and then we were interrupted and then _everything_ happened, we shouldn’t have just lunged into stuff - I assumed it wouldn’t be a problem for him! I thought the problem would be me! Why’s _he_ freaking out?’ 

‘It really doesn’t make much sense,’ Selena agreed, stirring her coffee, perfect nose wrinkled as she thought. ‘Considering he and Miranda - _shit_.’ 

Rose stared at her. ‘Considering he and Miranda _what_?’ 

‘Shit, shit - forget I said anything!’ She flapped her hands, but wilted under Rose’s piercing look. ‘Oh, don’t ask me to - it’s not my business! This isn’t fair, it’s not my fault I’m friends with his ex! This doesn’t make me the go-to girl for information!’ But Selena wilted, scowling to herself. She reached for a pastry. ‘I know he and Miranda slept together. Last year, Easter holidays. I didn’t hear of him freaking out _then_. Apparently it was _awkward_ , but first times _are_ awkward and with practice it got -’ 

‘Okay, I suddenly don’t want to know as much.’ Rose lifted a hand, but her heart was sinking. ‘I get the picture. I can paint a blurry watercolour, in fact.’ 

‘I would say “I thought he’d told you”,’ said Selena. ‘But that would be a lie, of course he didn’t tell you.’ 

‘I didn’t ask.’ 

‘Did you and Matt have sex? Or you and Hector? Or, well, _anyone_ , you sly dog, you?’ 

‘What? No.’ Rose shook her head. ‘It’s not a big deal. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. I thought it _was_ , but then I -’ 

‘Use your words, Weasley, we’re not twelve.’ 

Rose coloured. ‘I’m not used to talking about this!’ 

‘I can tell! And you know what? _That_ _’s_ the problem.’ Selena pursed her lips. ‘That and the fact that Scorpius Malfoy is one of the world’s most self-absorbed _plonkers_. And you can do better, you know that?’ 

‘Better?’ 

‘Superior to - look. He kisses you when you’re with Hector, then _he_ has the gall to get pissed at _you_ when you don’t _dump_ Hector - who’s dying of _plague_ \- to be with him. Utter plonker. Then you get together, and one moment he’s all charming and stuff - I’m assuming he’s charming, I’m assuming he didn’t seduce you with Quidditch stories - and gets you into bed, then _runs out_ and somehow he’s pissed at _you_?’ 

Rose sipped her tea, crestfallen. ‘He apologised for how he acted about the Hector things.’ 

‘Oh, sure.’ Selena waved a hand. ‘He was horrible to you - to everyone, but you especially - for about _two months_ , and only manned the fuck up when you _almost died_ , but gee, he said _sorry_ …’ 

‘Are you trying to advise me to fix the relationship or _end_ it?’ 

‘Sorry. No, not end it. This is how I _help_ , dear, you need someone righteously on your side, and I’m not just _saying_ these things. I know he can be lovely, I _do_ , and he’s very sweet when he fusses, but he can also be a complete pillock and you’ve been _really_ jerked around by him. I don’t know what happened to make the indomitable Rose Weasley convinced that _everything_ in this relationship is _her_ fault…’ 

Rose bit her lip. ‘I really did hurt him with Hector.’ 

‘And he hurt you by punishing you far more than you deserved, and now this.’ Selena sighed, mulling something over. ‘…Miranda really messed him up.’ 

‘…yeah?’ Rose looked dubious. ‘He seemed to run after anything in a skirt immediately after.’ 

‘Yes. Think about it, Weasley. I know you don’t _like_ Miranda, but he was _really_ crazy about her. _Your_ first real relationship was with Matt, and while I don’t think that ended as healthily as you say, it still ended on friendly terms. And then you were with Hector, and while that had its issues, you knew exactly what you wanted out of that relationship - namely, a _killer_ six-pack - and you got it. _He_ falls for a girl, sleeps with her, then she _cheats_ on him, tells the entire school that _he_ cheated on _her_ \- what do you _think_ it means when he goes running after anything leggy that he can catch?’ 

The tea had gone colder than Rose liked, but she finished it because otherwise Selena would glare. ‘…much the same as it meant when I got with Hector so I didn’t have to look at Matt and feel lonely,’ she admitted. ‘I suppose that makes sense.’ 

‘Only in a very messed up way,’ Selena conceded. ‘But all of this makes sense most of all in thoroughly messed-up ways. Are you going to talk to him?’ 

‘What do I _say_? He’s the one who’s got to explain things to me! I don’t even know what’s wrong!’ 

‘That is a _minor_ obstacle, I grant you. And I hate to pull this professional card, but is _now_ really the time to try to corner him?’ Selena winced. ‘I don’t know when a good time is, but this is easily the most _mental_ thing we’ve ever done, and one way or another it’ll be over next week - either we succeed and get the Chalice and go home, or we fail and Thane’s gone somewhere the hell else.’ 

‘Yes, but when are our lives ever quiet?’ Rose sighed noisily. ‘You’re not wrong. I don’t know what to say - we need to have a _real_ talk, in private and not interrupted and we’re in about the worst possible place for that right now. Stop trying to get the waiter’s attention, we should head back.’ 

‘But I wanted another tea…’ 

‘There’s tea in the flat.’ 

Selena grumbled, getting to her feet. ‘It’s not good tea.’ 

‘I’ll pick up some good tea.’ Rose stood and looked at the other woman. ‘To say, you know. Thank you. For listening.’ 

She gave a small smile. ‘And for telling. And… thanks, too. It does help. I know it might sometimes seem like nothing helps. But not being alone helps.’ 

Rose gave her arm a squeeze. ‘You’re never alone.’ 

Selena didn’t look like she believed this, but she didn’t argue, and so the two of them made their way on foot down across the city to where their flat was. It had been charmed up by Rose herself to make it as safe and secure as could be, though they were relying more on keeping a low profile to make them safe. Paquet had been sent home with no recollection of what had happened, Thane had no reason to believe they were in the city, and while Guerrier probably had his methods of keeping tabs on them, he had certainly not been _told_ where they were. 

‘I’m going to nap,’ said Selena as they got in to see Albus bent over the many stacks of paper on the coffee table. ‘Let me know when I need to work.’ 

‘I’ll need you,’ called Albus. ‘But not yet. I want to double-check some things first.’ His voice was firm but distracted, and he didn’t even bother with a greeting. His sleeves were rolled up, his brow furrowed, and he looked utterly entrenched in the work - which, Rose could see, was every single note and piece of information that she’d extracted from Paquet’s mind about the movements of Thane and the insides and security of the Rabbit’s Foot. 

Rose padded over as Selena left. ‘How’s it going?’ 

Albus gave a small smile, but still didn’t look up. ‘We can do this,’ he said. 

‘Paquet knew lots, of course, and that’s everything she knows, but this is still one of the most secure places _on Earth_. You think we can waltz in tomorrow and take the Chalice from under Thane’s nose?’ 

‘It’s in there,’ he said. ‘And so’s Thane. And he’s not selling it, of course, he’s not even moving on yet. So, yes, I think we _can_ waltz in and take it from under Thane’s nose. But not tomorrow.’ 

‘We need more time?’ 

‘I have an idea,’ said Albus. ‘Several, in fact. This is going to take intricate planning, coordination, and resources. But if one piece of this works, the rest will fall into place.’ He finally looked up, and she was startled to see how his eyes glinted. Days ago he had been so cautious about everything, but this was the most determined and driven she’d ever seen him. ‘I controlled the security wards in Hogwarts; get me on the inside at the Rabbit’s Foot and I can most _certainly_ control those.’ 

‘Oh, so, if we get you to the command and control centre of the casino unimpeded, _then_ it’ll be easy.’ Rose snorted. ‘How long is this going to take?’ 

‘It won’t take long to confirm the details. Put the plan together. Make the preparation. But we can take it slow. Because we’re not doing this for another week.’ He tapped the schedule of the Rabbit’s Foot’s events she’d written down, pointing to the date of the auction. ‘That night.’ 

‘We’re going to steal the Chalice _and_ all of their relics?’ 

‘No, it’d be impossible to get several bulky, unusual magical artifacts out of that building - or, at least, _risky_. The only relic we’re walking out of there with is the Chalice.’ Albus’ smile twisted. ‘Trust me. This is going to work.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The depiction of Legilimency and Occlumency is, indeed, somewhat different to how it’s come across in the books. This is intentional. The idea here is that we’re dealing with two people powerful in both fields, and Rose isn’t just lunging into Paquet’s mind to loot details - she wants unfettered access. The ‘chess game’ is thus an intentional construct by Rose, to overpower Paquet’s will and then have free rein inside her memories. The more typical depiction of the books would require Rose to brute force Paquet’s memories chunk by chunk._
> 
> _And I wanted a different depiction of Legilimency anyway._


	17. Let the Chips Fall

When Matt said, ‘I need your help,’ she should have known it would be trouble. 

They’d been in Monte Carlo for five days. She’d provided Albus with all the information from Paquet’s mind, and he’d taken to sitting on the balcony surrounded by the scraps of paper and illusions representing the Rabbit’s Foot Casino, piecing together the disparate parts of what he swore blind was a plan that would work. Selena was often off conducting her own prep-work for the mission ahead. And when she’d asked Albus where Scorpius was, he’d assured her that he was working. 

Considering she knew he was leaving the flat every morning with his broom, she suspected he was finding somewhere quiet in the local area and getting some flying done. It sounded like his old tactics from Hogwarts when he wanted to brood and avoid her. That was fine. If he wanted to keep on being a child about this, that was his loss. 

Matt asking for her help meant she had something else to keep busy with. It was someone seeking out her company, and after being ignored for several days by someone with whom she was allegedly in a relationship, it was only a human reaction to be pleased by this. 

They were out on the balcony with Albus. Matt had come back after an afternoon at the Rabbit’s Foot, saying he needed to scrub up before going out in the evening - gambling there in the day and gambling there in the evening being apparently completely different. He was the one doing reconnaissance, though, and she wasn’t going to question his methods. 

‘I don’t know if Paquet’s being weird,’ Matt continued. 

‘Define weird?’ 

‘She occasionally looks at me funny. Occasionally shakes up the security protocols. I was hoping to get a copy of the security shift patterns so I could tell if this is unusual, but I figured it might be best if Rose got a look at her.’ He shrugged. ‘Seeing as she was the one in her head, she wiped her memories, she planted the -’ 

‘Good idea,’ said Albus, not looking up. ‘Rose, go with Matt to the Rabbit’s Foot tonight.’ 

Rose hesitated. ‘Not that I disagree with the idea of Matt having someone watch his back while he’s out there, but isn’t there a risk I’ll be recognised?’ 

Albus did lift his head at this, gaze landing on Matt. ‘Have you seen Prometheus Thane there?’ 

‘Not at all.’ 

‘Have you seen any of his men?’ 

‘The only one of his men we have an ID on is Downing,’ said Matt. ‘But I don’t think so, no. It’s a busy place. Look at it this way - if they know we’re after them to the extent they’ve got people looking out for you, then they’d surely know _I_ _’m_ with you and look out for me, too?’ 

‘He makes a good point.’ Albus bent back over the map of Monte Carlo, the magical one which included the presence of the Rabbit’s Foot across the cityscape. It was three-dimensional, bunching up and crinkling where the casino was in its cramped pocket of space, and even if he flattened the paper it still looked warped, ill-fitting. ‘Thane’s a professional. If he knew we were after him, he’d have Matt identified for sure.’ 

‘Isn’t this why we sent Matt in the first place?’ 

‘Because we thought there was a risk of running into Thane on the casino floor. If there’s not that threat, and he’s not expecting us, you can go.’ 

‘I’ve never seen him,’ said Matt, ‘and it’s a big damned place. And this way she can get a look so more than one of us has been there, and to see if something’s wrong with Paquet.’ 

‘I’d need to get into her mind to properly assess -’ 

‘Will a visual check work?’ said Albus. 

‘You mean, can I study her behaviour and see if there’s some sort of error with the implanted memories causing erratic actions?’ Rose sighed. ‘Yes. Maybe.’ 

‘Don’t look so miserable,’ he said. ‘You can have a nice night at a fancy casino.’ 

‘I’ll be _working_.’ 

‘It’s not all work,’ said Matt. ‘Some of it’s fun. That said, I’m supposed to gamble and get my face known and build up a reputation. So my work is what a lot of people would call a holiday.’ 

‘Great,’ she said. ‘You do that while I watch the Chief of Security to see if she’s going to rip our whole operation apart, without being noticed or captured or recognised.’ 

He frowned. ‘I was just trying to look on the bright side.’ 

‘It’s a good idea, Matt. I just don’t like the idea of going in there before the mission. And I don’t like the idea that something might be wrong with Paquet. If she comes unravelled, this _entire_ thing is doomed.’ 

‘All the more reason for you to go.’ Albus reached for another chart. ‘Go talk to Selena to get a nice frock.’ 

‘What?’ 

‘You need to dress up to go somewhere like this.’ 

‘I have nice dresses!’ Rose paused. ‘Dress. Just the one - fine. I’ll talk to Selena.’ 

‘Great,’ said Matt. ‘I’m going to shower. We’ll go in an hour?’ 

‘Sounds _lovely_ ,’ said a gruff voice from the doorway, and they turned to see Scorpius, his broom slung over his shoulder, dishevelled and tired. His expression was pinched in that way she recognised from the fights at Hogwarts, that distant, disapproving look which made it clear he was stewing in his bitterness, letting it fester and grow. 

And she was thoroughly, thoroughly sick of it. Not least because he was looking at her like she’d committed some gross offence when he was the one who’d mistreated _her_ and was refusing to explain it. 

So she made sure to smile. ‘I’m sure it will be. I’m going to see what Selena has. I might as well look _good_ if we’re going somewhere fancy.’ 

His eyes were cold, and he didn’t move when she headed for the balcony doors until she put out a hand to push him aside - but at that he stepped away, shying from her touch, and she flinched. Had it become that bad? Was being close to her so abhorrent he had to pull away at the mere risk of contact? 

So she didn’t touch him. She didn’t even look at him, just ducked her head, muttered, ‘Excuse me,’ and slipped past with the hope that Selena and making herself look good might, _might_ dismiss some of the sense of worthlessness that had been born in Paris. 

In the end, she went for something conservative. Selena arched an eyebrow in disapproval, but, knowing what had happened, didn’t press it. While Rose was prepared to do her part for the mission, to fit in for reconnaissance, the last thing she was in the mood for was to try to feel or look sexy. 

‘We’ll go with _classy_ ,’ said Selena, extending a silk stole. ‘You can be the most aristocratic woman in the room.’ 

‘I don’t _want_ to be the most aristocratic woman in the room,’ said Rose, fighting with her hair. ‘The entire point is to not be noticed.’ 

‘Then you won’t fit in if you don’t _try_. Are you okay?’ 

Rose sighed and straightened the green dress, and wondered by what magnitude Selena’s wardrobe had increased in their time in Paris and Monaco. There had _certainly_ been shopping expeditions. ‘No. But I get to work tonight.’ 

‘Yes.’ Her lips thinned. ‘I’m sure that’s what Doyle has in mind.’ 

Rose chose to ignore that. 

He was waiting for her when she stepped out of the girls’ bedroom, adjusting his cuffs, the silver links catching the dim light of the setting sun that filtered in through the windows of the balcony where Scorpius and Albus still sat. She’d not seen him dressed up for the Rabbit’s Foot before; she knew he’d dusted off his suit robes and that Selena had made some judicious adjustments to make it fit that bit better, look that bit better-tailored, make him look that bit more high class. 

It worked. And he’d sorted out his hair, sweeping it back and out of his face, reminding her that he could look good if he made an effort, instead of the demeanour of the scruffy academic he seemed to wrap around himself without a care. 

He grinned when he saw her, and she was relieved it was a smile lacking his haunted shock when he’d seen her in Paris, a smile without presumption or expectation. Just the smile of someone pleased to see her. ‘Guess we should be off, then,’ said Matt cheerfully, and held a hand out for the door. His gaze flickered to Selena, stood over Rose’s shoulder. ‘Don’t wait up.’ 

_No_ , thought Rose as she glanced at the balcony, at Scorpius sat with Albus, who had his gaze set on the horizon with a stiffness in his shoulders which made it clear he was adamantly _not_ looking their way. _Don_ _’t wait._

* * 

Albus sighed as the door shut. ‘You’re an idiot.’ 

Scorpius’ expression twitched. ‘What the fuck am I supposed to do? Stop her? She’s doing work. _You_ signed off on this.’ 

‘I did. Because if something’s wrong with Paquet, we’re going to need to know. She can’t remember what happened, and half the plan relies on those implanted memories.’ 

‘Not the half _I_ care about.’ 

Albus slammed down his papers. Or he tried to - the result was more of a _flumph_ noise and some flapping pages, but the stern look remained. ‘If I shout at you, you’re going to get defensive, like I’m the bad guy for daring to call you on your shit.’ 

‘I don’t -’ 

‘Really? Because in terms of danger, this mission is barely less likely to kill us than the ritual. In terms of overall stakes? Possibly higher. We have to get everything _exactly_ right, and this isn’t going to be easy if you and Rose are sniping at each other!’ 

‘I can be professional, if we want to call meddling our profession. And I don’t see why -’ 

‘See?’ Albus jabbed a finger. ‘Defensive.’ 

‘I don’t know what’s made you go all Supreme Mugwump on us -’ 

‘Because I can do this. Because _we_ can do this. Because I don’t want any more surprises that get people slashed up, or get people _killed_. We can’t prepare for everything, but we can do our damned best, so, _no_ , I’m not thrilled you still haven’t spoken to Rose!’ 

Scorpius looked away, his blazing gaze settling on the rays of dying sunlight creeping through the thick buildings that blocked any great view of Monte Carlo from their balcony. Anger still bubbled inside him, resentment at Albus for criticising him and resentment that he’d been _right_ , he did get defensive. If anyone tried to throw anything at him, he reacted by biting back. He sighed. ‘I… still don’t know what I’d say.’ 

‘Just _try._ You think she won’t listen if you try to figure it out with her?’ 

‘She’s not come to _me_ -’ 

‘Why should she? You ran out on her and since then you’ve been your old self, your old vicious _bastard_ self, like you were in Hogwarts when you were blaming her for everything!’ 

Scorpius stood so quickly he rocked his chair. ‘Is this what you call having my back? Jumping on _her_ side -’ 

‘I am _not_ on her side!’ Albus stood too. ‘I’m on _both_ of your sides, but she’s not a mind-reader, you’ve forbidden me from going to her, and I think she knows better than to ask me if you’re not telling! The onus _is_ on you to act, and I think being your friend and having your back means that sometimes I need to tell you when you’re fucking up!’ 

‘So that’s what this is. I’m being a fuck-up -’ 

‘There are times I want to throttle you -’ 

‘Still _feeling_ the support,’ Scorpius sneered. ‘From you, from her, seeing as she won’t come and talk to me, but she will go talk to _Doyle_ -’ 

‘Matt knows?’ 

‘Yeah.’ Scorpius subsided to shove his hands in his pockets, turning back to the view. 

‘She told him?’ 

‘ _Yes_.’ 

Albus looked confused. ‘Are you sure?’ 

‘Does it _matter_?’ He stabbed a finger back at the apartment. ‘They’re going out tonight to the fucking Rabbit’s Foot _anyway_ -’ 

‘They’re doing work -’ 

‘My _arse_ does Doyle want to do work. He’s said that he wants Rose back, that he doesn’t give a shit any more that she’s in a relationship with me. If all’s fair in love and war, then he just declared war.’ 

Albus sighed, planting his hands on the balcony railing. ‘Maybe Matt does look at her like that. But why does it matter? I don’t get this “stealing” shit. It might make him a crappy person, like Hector was a crappy person to sleep with Miranda, but at the end of the day he didn’t bewitch her or anything, she _chose_ to cheat on you. Hector didn’t trick her.’ He lifted a hand to squeeze Scorpius’ shoulder. ‘Matt can do what he likes. It’s Rose who matters, Rose’s choices, and she’s chosen _you_. She’s not Miranda.’ 

‘I know she’s not -’ Scorpius stopped mid-sentence, not because of anything Albus had said, but because even though he was stood calmly on a balcony, having done nothing more tiring in the last ten minutes than stand up, he could feel his heart thudding in his chest with a fervour which beat even his frustration and his anger. ‘…she’s not Miranda,’ he muttered. ‘She won’t - she’s not - shit.’ 

‘What?’ 

Scorpius dragged a hand across his face, forcing his breathing to slow. ‘She’s not the same,’ he muttered to himself. 

‘Scorp?’ 

He didn’t say anything for a moment, planting his hands back on the balcony railing. ‘She hurt me before.’ 

‘Rose? With Hector?’ Albus hesitated. ‘She did. Though you hurt her too.’ 

‘I - I know. Maybe if it hadn’t been _Hector_ , maybe if it hadn’t been _another_ girl picking _Flynn_ over me - that’s not the point. Not even - I know it went two ways. I just, she doesn’t - Miranda was a bitch, and Rose…’ 

‘Isn’t?’ 

‘Yes!’ 

‘You’velost me.’ 

Scorpius turned to him and grasped his shoulders. ‘You’ve been a good friend. _Are_ a good friend. You know that?’ 

Albus blinked. ‘I, er…’ 

‘When I - with Methuselah - when I was going to go out there…’ Scorpius faltered, finding the words. ‘The ritual. I wanted him to tell you that you were the best mate I could ever have. ‘Cos you are.’ 

‘Thank you. Are you ill?’ 

‘No.’ Scorpius’ lips twisted. ‘You’re the only person who never hurt me. You’re the only person who never put me second place to someone else, or something else. You’re the only person who never betrayed me, or walked out on me. You’re the only person who always, always treated me like I mattered most.’ 

‘Are you _dying_? You’re actually dying -’ 

He gave a tired laugh, and Albus beamed the bright smile he gave when he was _really_ pleased. ‘I’m not,’ said Scorpius, hands dropping. ‘I just - I need to talk to Rose. Really talk to her. Only, couple problems with that. I still need to be _really_ sure what I’m going to say. And tomorrow we’re doing the last bits of prep. And the day _after_ , we’re taking action.’ 

Albus nodded, gaze going sombre. ‘Tonight?’ 

‘Tonight…’ Scorpius sighed. ‘Tonight she’s going to a high-class casino on the arm of Matthias Doyle.’

* * 

‘What makes the Rabbit’s Foot kind of different,’ said Matt as they swept across the casino floor, ‘is they’ve got hardly any gambling contraptions.’ 

‘Contraptions?’ 

Fitting impossibly between two ancient Muggle buildings overseeing the water-front of Monte Carlo, filling a space of three inches and yet sprawling and huge at the same time, the Rabbit’s Foot Casino was a sight to behold. There were the surging crowds of the more well-dressed of wizarding society, the manned tables boasting a variety of gaming options, the unmanned gambling magical contraptions lined up at the far end - though, as Matt said, not many of them. Excitement fizzed in the air, the promise of winning, and winning big - and, even in the case of losing, of getting a once-in-a-lifetime experience of anticipation and luxury along the way. 

‘Slot machines, high rollers - stick your coin in, watch the lights flash and spin, see if you’re a winner!’ His voice took on the light mockery of a salesman trying to woo her in their direction. ‘All rigged, of course. The house always wins. But you’re less likely to lose big. Still, they’re very anti-social.’ 

‘I don’t get coming to a place like this and then just sitting at one of those.’ 

‘There’s atmosphere. But you don’t get noticed. And we’re here to get noticed.’ 

‘ _You_ _’re_ here to get noticed. _I_ _’m_ here to watch Paquet.’ Her gaze ran across the heady crowd of patrons lit up by the glimmering chandelier high above. ‘Getting noticed would be pretty unhelpful.’ 

Matt’s brow knotted for a moment - then he forced his expression to clear, forced a smile. ‘You’re right, of course. Not to a table, then. To the bar? There’s a good vantage point. And you need to look like you’re doing _something_ to be unobtrusive.’ 

‘I can look -’ 

‘Smile.’ 

She blinked at him, at his hopeful, encouraging grin. ‘I smile -’ 

‘Not for days.’ Again, Matt’s brow knotted. ‘I know stuff’s weird. But if there’s one thing I’ve found in trying to fit in around here? Actually relaxing, feeling like you’re a part of it, feeling like you’re here to enjoy yourself… you can fit in better, _and_ have some fun. If you want to look like a patron who’s here for an evening of sumptuous atmosphere and a little bit of fun, then _being_ such a patron, even a little bit, is a good start.’ 

‘That sounds suspiciously like an instruction to relax.’ 

‘Would that be so bad?’ He shouldered his way past the crowd to get them a space at the bar, and Rose watched him as he extended a hand, caught the bartender’s eye, gave the man an easy smile. He’d grown more confident over the last year, she thought, or however much of it he’d been conscious for. When they’d got together, there was no way he’d have let himself fall into a crowd, wear a room like a second skin; no way he’d have dared. Somewhere down the line, some time since she’d stopped herself from watching him, it was like his confidence had grown a full foot. ‘You look like you could do with it. What do you want to drink?’ 

‘Iced water will -’ 

His lip curled and he rested a hand on the bar next to her, leaning in. ‘Rose. We’re in the middle of the Rabbit’s Foot Casino, possibly the most opulent and extravagant place in Europe. People are going to watch us, and _you_ \- people are going to notice you. We do not walk up to the bar and order cold water.’ 

Her chin jerked up half an inch. ‘Believe it or not, this isn’t my first foray into the fancy. Fine. I’ll have what you’re having.’ 

His smile widened. ‘Martini it is.’ 

‘What’s even _in_ one of those?’ 

Matt didn’t answer for a moment, gesturing to the bartender and holding up two fingers, and the man seemed to know him well enough to know what this meant. ‘Gin, an olive. Some vermouth. Just how _much_ vermouth is a matter of debate. Some schools of thought seem to think less is more - show the glass the cork of a bottle. Maybe merely let the shadow of the bottle fall over the glass.’ His crooked grin grew even broader. ‘Winston Churchill thought it was sufficient to pour the gin, produce the olive, and then bow in the direction of France.’ 

She had to laugh at that. ‘I think we’ll stick with “less is more” on the quantities. I _am_ still working.’ 

‘Sure.’ He took the two glasses and passed one to her, leaning against the bar with a practised air. ‘But we can enjoy the first one, at least. Cheers.’ 

She managed to not cough at the taste. Gin was a belter of a drink. ‘What were we even drinking to?’ 

‘You can choose.’ 

Rose opened her mouth - then hesitated. _To not making this any more awkward than it is?_ She’d be lying if she said that fussing over little, inconsequential things like what to drink was relaxing. There was no self-consciousness, no worry over her words being good enough, over _herself_ being good enough. And Matt was calmer, more self-assured than he’d been in Paris, than he’d been the day of their arrival in Monaco. 

Everyone was allowed a little time to reel as the world changed under their feet. Whatever had been chewing him up seemed to have passed. And besides, she knew _she_ _’d_ probably take a little time to sort her head out, however much she might be over him, if and when he got with another girl - 

‘You kissed Selena?’ 

The words tumbled out before she realised what she was saying, and Matt almost choked on his martini. ‘…I wasn’t going to drink to that.’ 

‘No, I mean -’ She closed her eyes. ‘Wow, I was the most subtle thing in the world there, wasn’t I?’ 

‘Little bit.’ 

‘She mentioned. She was upset - not - I mean - she said you guys talked it over, that it wasn’t a big deal, that it was fine. That it was one of those things that happened.’ Rose pursed her lips. ‘And you weren’t wrong in Germany to say that it’s not really my business -’ 

‘No, I was - that was shitty of me,’ said Matt, straightening. ‘I shouldn’t have got sharp with you. I was still figuring things out. Still getting used to you and Malfoy. It’s a process, isn’t it? Moving on. Killing old habits, like that twist in your gut, even if it’s only there because nobody got around to telling it to go…’ 

‘It’s not really my business. I shouldn’t have asked.’ 

‘You didn’t _really_ ask a question - I mean - I did kiss her.’ Matt coloured, and she was relieved that he was finding this difficult, too. Not that she wanted to make things awkward, but he’d been sounding in control, and it was comforting to know she wasn’t the only one struggling. ‘But, no, it didn’t mean anything. She was upset, and I was being dumb and upset.’ 

He looked away at that, at the implications as to why _he_ _’d_ been upset that night, and she took another gulp of her martini. Gin went a lot smoother when it was being used to wash something down. Like the taste of awkward. 

‘I am okay,’ he said after a moment, grey eyes sweeping across the crowd. His tension was fading, and the mask of the Matty she knew crumpled, leaving this man who could stand in a room and watch it like he owned it. ‘I was knocked for six that night, I won’t lie. You and him, going out, you looking like that - yes. I was jealous. But it was that old habit. It was something I had to deal with, and it might have been a bit difficult, but I needed that smack around the head.’ Then he looked at her, and his smile was softer. ‘I’m okay.’ 

She sighed. ‘Thank you.’ 

‘For what?’ 

‘Being honest. And for dealing with this. I know I’ve not been ideal -’ 

‘You’ve been trying to be. Like not talking to me about you and Malfoy. That wasn’t fair of me to ask - I wanted to help, yeah, but it would have been a bad idea. I was…’ He gestured vaguely. ‘I wasn’t sure how we should handle it. You and me, or, rather, there not _being_ a you and me. I was trying to act like there was no issue. Which is silly. We _were_ a couple, that _did_ happen, it’s immature of us to act like that never happened, pretend like we can be _normal_ friends.’ 

She sipped her martini. ‘We _can_ be friends.’ 

‘Yeah. I hope so.’ He smiled. ‘I just think the way to be friends isn’t to pretend like there’s no issues, that we’re not still learning how to be _not_ a couple around one another. We were together. We had good times. We were even good together, until we weren’t. I still think you’re great. But we can build on that to make a friendship. Instead of trying to act like there was nothing. So long as we know where we both stand, we’re _allowed_ to be awkward, at times.’ 

‘That’s… sounding remarkably like a mature stance.’ She side-eyed him. ‘What happened to you?’ 

He laughed. ‘I had a _lot_ of time to think things over while going through really easy, boring poker games.’ Then his eyes grew more serious. ‘I will be fine around you and M- Scorpius. If I walk off, if I take time, just leave me to it. I’m just fine-tuning those habits, making them sit down and shut up. And you’re allowed, you know, to find things about _me_ awkward, even if you’re happy in a relationship.’ 

‘It’s not a big deal, I just wanted to make sure - I mean, Selena’s been through a lot -’ 

‘There’s something Mum told me about relationships I didn’t used to get,’ he said, cutting off her protest. ‘She says you don’t fall out of love, you just become a different person as time goes by. And maybe the person you become isn’t in love with who the other person becomes. But the person you used to be’s still in there, somewhere, and so’s the person _they_ used to be. Sometimes all we feel are the memories of ghosts.’ 

_Love. That_ _’s a dodgy word to throw around at the best of times._ ‘I think this is still sounding frighteningly mature,’ Rose sighed. She turned to watch the crowd, watch the string of men in security uniforms come from one of the main stairwells onto the floor and caught a glimpse of a woman who could have been Paquet. It was hard to tell at this distance, but for now, she could watch. ‘What happened to you?’ 

‘What?’ 

‘You. You’re different. Older, I guess.’ 

He shrugged. ‘I told you John and I went travelling a bit last summer. Cleared our heads after OWLs. Tibet, in the end.’ 

‘Tibet - I thought you meant, like, camping in Cornwall.’ 

Matt laughed. ‘No, my dad spent some time out in Tibet. Has some friends out there. We didn’t do much, but it was somewhere different. Just us. Let us be a bit more self-sufficient. I think I needed it, you know? Some time to just be _me_. Or, well, me and John.’ 

‘I don’t -’ Then Rose’s hand reached out for his elbow. ‘That _is_ Paquet. Over there, breaking off from the security team who just came onto the main floor.’ 

Matt frowned that way. ‘And she’s not alone. Some old guy and - oh, and that’s Bellegarde, I took about fifty galleons off him at one of the poker tables yesterday…’ He pondered this a moment, then drained his martini and extended his arm to her. ‘Maybe we should have a little drive-by -’ 

‘Is that really sensible?’ 

‘She shouldn’t recognise you. Bellegarde might even get us into a conversation, so you can assess her properly. Sounds like a perfectly good plan to me.’ Matt noticed her eyeballing his extended arm. ‘I’m sorry, but seriously, this is the best cover. If it makes you feel any better, think of it as helping _my_ cover.’ 

‘ _Your_ cover -’ 

‘I’m meant to come across as a young man from a good family with more money than sense and a penchant for poker. Having a different pretty girl on my arm on different evenings only helps me blend in more.’ 

She took his arm, but she did frown. ‘What different girls -’ 

‘I just mean on the night it’ll be Selena!’ He grinned crookedly. ‘No need to get defensive.’ 

‘I am not -’ But they were on the move, then, slipping through the crowd to where Paquet was talking with Bellegarde and the older gentleman, security moving past them to sweep across the room. It seemed mundane, nothing more than walking past the gaming tables to ensure everything was well, presenting a firm appearance of the Rabbit’s Foot Casino being a safe, secure place. But she watched Bellegarde anyway. ‘Why’s he talking to her?’ 

‘Hm? Oh, he’s a regular at this place, comes down to Monte Carlo for a few weekends every summer. They know him. I wanted to get in with that kind of crowd specifically so they’ll take me more seriously on the night, and he brushes elbows with Paquet sometimes, and even Maisson when he comes down… don’t know who this old fart is…’ 

‘Monsieur Doyle!’ 

Rose’s breath caught in her throat as Bellegarde turned to them, and the hopes of doing a quick drive-by assessment of the security chief died. She stiffened, but Matt gave her arm a quick squeeze as he turned to the trio, flashing them a broad smile. ‘Bellegarde, old chap, didn’t see you there - you’ll be at the card tables later, I trust?’ 

‘Of course I will. I still have some money to win back.’ Bellegarde was a short, portly wizard, prone to expansive hand gestures. With one of these he summoned them closer, although the sweep of his hand might have been enough to bring the whole room forth had he wished it. ‘Madame, Monsieur, I should make some introductions,’ he said to his two companions, and though she only spared the older man a glance he seemed oddly familiar. ‘This young fellow has been _most_ upsetting me and my friends this week.’ 

‘That would be because you’re terrible at cards, Monsieur Bellegarde,’ said Paquet, the ribbing familiar, good-natured. ‘But it’s always a pleasure to meet someone who’ll put you in your place.’ 

‘You have no sympathy for my suffering, Madame, none at all,’ sighed Bellegarde, and grinned as Matt and Rose joined the trio. ‘But in which case, it should be your pleasure to meet young Matthias Doyle here and, euh, I’m afraid I don’t know the young lady…’ 

_Oh, Christ, he used his real name_. It took Rose a moment to remind herself that, if anyone cared enough to look into Matt’s background, they were probably screwed anyway, and a false name would raise more suspicions - but in that moment everyone was looking at her expectantly, and when she opened her mouth for some clever cover story, none came out. 

Matt put his hand at his back. ‘My guest for the night, Miss Riley. She won’t be staying long, so I thought I’d show her the place.’ 

Bellegarde kissed her hand when he took it, and she settled for just giving a polite smile. There were worse things she could do, Rose reasoned, than look pretty and smile and say _nothing_. ‘My pleasure, of course,’ he said, all old-fashioned airs and graces, then he straightened and swept a hand to his right. ‘And may I introduce the Chief of Security here at the Rabbit’s Foot, Madame Paquet.’ 

Paquet did not kiss hands, though she did shake Matt’s, and Rose found herself studying every inch of her movement, every shift of her expression, especially when she looked her in the eye. There was nothing there. No flicker. No oddity. Absolutely no recognition. Not the slightest hint that anything was wrong, that the implanted memories were crumbling or the erased ones were coming back. She was fine. 

Then Paquet turned to the third of the group, the older man, tall but still like a rod of iron, cheeks gaunt and eyes sunken and yet, even in his silence, severe and imposing. It wasn’t until that moment Rose realised why he’d seemed familiar to her, and by then, Paquet was speaking. ‘And this is one of Monsieur Maisson’s special guests, Colonel Raskoph.’ 

Matt did falter this time - but within seconds was sticking his hand out. ‘Colonel. A - a pleasure, I’m absolutely sure,’ he stammered, and Rose reasoned it was just as well that Raskoph’s eyes were cold and charmless, that it would appear perfectly normal to be staggered by being in the same conversation as such a pitiless figure. 

Or their reaction to standing in the presence of Prometheus Thane’s employer, his paymaster from the Council of Thorns, a surviving member of the Thule Society and former follower of Grindelwald, would have come across as _particularly_ suspicious. 

‘Hm.’ Raskoph gave Matt’s hand nothing more than a perfunctory shake, then his gaze settled on Rose. ‘Your name was Riley, Miss?’ His voice was like thunder dragged through gravel, the German accent light, and his eyes locking on her was like a punch to the gut that knocked all air from her lungs. She settled on another mute nod, and cold disinterest replaced the cold assessment. ‘Hm. You had looked familiar to me, I was thinking. No matter.’ 

Paquet flinched, though Rose thought this a reaction to discourtesy rather than some familiarity of her own rising. ‘I was taking the Colonel on a tour; he’s most interested in the arrangements we have here,’ she said. ‘So we should be on our way. A pleasure to meet you both, and good evening.’ 

‘Yes, yes, of course!’ Bellegarde smiled happily, then turned to Matt as the two left. ‘Are you joining me at the tables tonight, Monsieur Doyle?’ 

‘I - perhaps later? Tomorrow, for certain, and then if that goes well I was wondering if I might join you and _your_ friends at the table?’ Matt still looked nervous, but it seemed he was working these nerves into his request, making his hesitation and anxiety seem normal. 

‘The high-stakes game? Are you sure you’re ready for that?’ 

‘I don’t know, Mister Bellegarde. Are _you_?’ 

Bellegarde laughed, and clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Let’s see how tomorrow goes, hm? But I should leave you to your evening, and your _lovely_ companion. I do hope I don’t see you later,’ he said, then winked and disappeared into the crowd. 

Rose drew a slow breath once they were alone, once she was sure only he would hear the shake. ‘We need to get out of here.’ 

Matt’s lips thinned. ‘Yeah. Yeah, okay,’ he said, and they moved as quickly as they could without drawing attention through the crowds, towards the front doors, and within minutes they were no longer in the middle of the Rabbit’s Foot’s humming gathering of people, but out in the open air, the huge front square that was the final arena before the wards which hid the entire building from Muggle sight. 

Rose didn’t say anything then, didn’t speak until they were far from the doors, across the square and reaching the steps that led to the night-clad streets of normal Monte Carlo. She could feel her knees shaking with every step, and so she didn’t trust herself to speak until she knew they wouldn’t be heard. ‘Stupid… stupid!’ 

He hurried after her, brow knotted. ‘What? That was unlucky -’ 

‘That was _stupid_!’ She reeled around to face him, stabbing an accusing finger. ‘Raskoph! Thane’s _boss_! And he almost recognised me! Maybe he _did_! We might have blown the entire damned thing open just because… because… what?’ 

‘If he recognised you, we wouldn’t be walking out of there,’ said Matt, opening his hands, voice placating. ‘And we went there for a good reason.’ 

‘Did we? Paquet’s _fine_. She and I came face to face and there wasn’t the slightest flicker - and I would have seen it, I’ve been _in_ her head. What on Earth made you think something was wrong?’ 

He faltered. ‘There were - the security shifts -’ 

‘That made you panic to the extent you wanted to put _my_ face in front of Thane’s boss?’ 

He scowled. ‘Of course I didn’t expect that! What kind of idiot do you think I am -’ 

‘Did you _really_ think something was wrong with Paquet?’ 

‘Yes!’ Matt paused. ‘Sort of!’ 

‘Matt…’ 

‘You have looked _miserable_ for the last week!’ The words came bursting from him, like he’d been holding them in all night. ‘Because he’s not even been looking at you, let alone talking to you! Because you might be talking to Selena, but you looked like you needed a _break_! Don’t tell me you didn’t have a nice time.’ 

She faltered at that. ‘I did, but - you know, I could have very easily just had a bloody night out with Selena!’ Realisation came at her sideways, and her jaw dropped. ‘Everything you said in there - us just being friends - moving past stuff - that was -’ 

‘What, because we’re _just_ friends, I can’t want to be the one to make you feel better? I can’t be the one to show you a bit of fun? I can’t show you that I _can_ switch off sometimes?’ 

_‘You never switch off. That’s your problem, Matty - everything feels like a competition, like it’s super-important, and that’s not just your fault, because I’m pretty bad at it too, and between us both it makes everything - everything - the end of the world, a challenge to beat, a crisis to respond to -’_   
  
Her own words from their breakup a year ago came howling back at her, and she turned away, gaze going to the shimmering streets of Monte Carlo rushing past only metres away, but with the wardings between them they might as well have been on the other side of the city. 

_Tonight wasn_ _’t a crisis. A challenge. We had a nice drink and a nice talk and he didn’t treat you like you’re a_ ** _leper_** _…_   
  
‘Okay,’ she said, voice wavering, and he stepped up beside her. For one terrifying moment, she thought he was going to put his arm around her, and that really _would_ have been a step too far in an evening of boundaries too blurry for her to be comfortable. ‘We had a nice evening.’ 

‘Yep.’ 

‘And Paquet’s altered memories are still perfectly intact.’ 

‘Yep.’ 

‘And we’re friends.’ She looked at him and forced herself to not say ‘just’ friends. 

‘I do hope so.’ 

‘Okay,’ Rose said again, and scrubbed her face with her hand. ‘I’m going back to the flat. You should go play some cards with Bellegarde, or something. I’ll let Albus know nothing’s wrong.’ 

_And I think it might be best for Scorpius if we don_ _’t come home together, looking like we’ve had a nice evening._   
  
_Even if I_ _’m not convinced I owe Scorpius that much thoughtfulness right now._   
  
‘Nothing’s wrong,’ Matt confirmed, doing up the top button of his shirt. ‘Everything’s going to go fine. This plan is going to work.’

* * 

‘This isn’t going to work,’ said Eva Saida, arms folded across her chest as she looked across the small office at Thane and Downing. 

‘You give yourself too little credit,’ said Thane. ‘They’re in the city. They’ll make their move. We _let_ them make their move. And then you do your part. You’re excellent at what you do.’ 

‘This _isn_ _’t_ what I do.’ 

‘It’s one of the things you do. You can be most effective at persuasion when you want to be. And they will have every reason to believe you.’ 

‘Besides,’ grunted Downing, ‘we’ve hit a brick wall otherwise. We need more leads.’ 

‘Read more books!’ 

‘Raskoph is checking his resources,’ said Thane. ‘He may come up with something. But the five have been _tremendously_ resourceful, and so _they_ are a resource I would want to tap. We give them one little thing… and then we are poised to take everything. But you’re the only one who can do this.’ 

‘Does Raskoph agree?’ 

Thane and Downing exchanged looks. ‘I thought you didn’t care what Raskoph thought?’ said Downing. 

‘So he doesn’t know.’ Saida tossed her hands in the air. ‘Fine. I don’t like this. But if you think it’ll work…’ 

‘Of course I do.’ Thane wandered over, wearing his small smile, the one she liked to think he only reserved for her - even though she knew, deep down, it wasn’t true. His hand came to her chin, thumb again running along the scar puckering the corner of her jaw. ‘I know you. I know you don’t understand failure. And there is nobody else I would trust with this task.’ Then he pulled his hand back and turned away. ‘But this needs to be believable.’ 

Saida’s voice was flat as she watched Downing draw his wand. ‘So you get to beat the shit out of me. _Great_.’ 

Downing gave a wry smile. ‘I’d say I’m not going to enjoy this. But that would be a lie.’ 

Thane whirled to face him. ‘You will do what is needed to make this convincing and if you step so much as an _inch_ over the line, Elijah, I will _flay_ you. Is that understood?’ 

Downing faltered. ‘Yes, sir.’ 

‘Good.’ Thane gave Saida one last look. ‘I’ll see you soon, my dear. Remember. I believe in you. I trust you.’ He gave Downing one last, warning look, before he left the room. 

The two looked at each other, expressions equally flat. ‘Well,’ said Saida. ‘You weren’t going to get the chance to beat me up if I didn’t _let_ you.’ 

‘Shut up. Sit down, and I’ll make this go as easy as possible. And I’ll _try_ to not enjoy it. Just for him. Can’t guarantee I’ll succeed.’ 

Saida scowled, but sat on the chair and tried to not brace herself as she closed her eyes. Being tense would just make it hurt more. 

And then Downing’s first blow landed, and she wasn’t Eva Saida any more.


	18. The Sky's the Limit

‘Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,’ said Matt with a flourish of the hand, ‘to the Rabbit’s Foot Casino.’ 

The casino floor was as crowded as it had been two nights ago, and the two of them stepped into the same swirling mass of people, colours, excitement. Matt had been wrangled into a set of dress-robes which Selena had worked on to look better-tailored than they were - and open-fronted in anticipation of the very high likelihood that over the course of the evening, they were going to have to run like hell. For her part, she wore one of the many dresses she’d somehow managed to sneak in amongst her packing and which was, despite all likelihood, in perfect condition despite the extensive travelling. 

She had her hand slipped into his arm, but as he spoke, her mask of tight control flickered. ‘Don’t talk like there’s more than one of us, Doyle,’ she muttered out of the corner of her mouth as they swept inside. ‘They’ll think you’re crazy.’ 

‘I _am_ a little crazy,’ he sighed, gaze sweeping the tables. ‘I hate not having my wand.’

* * 

_The five of them were stood in the apartment_ _’s main room, a miniaturised facsimile of the building - produced by Scorpius’ illusions - sat on the table, giving them a full display of the Rabbit’s Foot Casino, inside and out, as best as they could reproduce based on the information from Paquet._  
  
 _‘Security is tight,’ said Matt, pointing to the front. ‘Your wand’s taken off you by security at the door, and they have the entranceway itself charmed up to not only detect a wand, but also to bring down any spells hanging on you. That includes illusions, polyjuice, concealment charms.’_  
  
 _Albus nodded._ _‘So anyone security watches walk in is going to be unarmed and unequipped. It’s fine. I know what you guys are doing once you’re inside.’_

* * 

From outside they had seen the tall columns shrouding the entranceway and could look up to see the tower stab high into the starry sky, the architecture old-fashioned at the lower levels but becoming more solid and modern as the building rose. It had promised just as much opulence as they were given, but Matt moved like he knew exactly what he was doing, guiding Selena through the crowd towards where the exchange booths sat.

‘Is it going to be a bit diverting,’ she said, ‘you coming here with a different girl to a few nights ago?’ 

‘On the contrary. It helps my mystique.’ 

‘Yeah. That’s a word I associate with you. _Mystique_.’ She looked at him. ‘How did that go?’ 

‘Is now really the time?’ 

‘We’re in a queue. Perfect time.’ 

Matt sighed deeply. ‘We talked. Properly. About how we can be friends, how it’s okay if things are awkward between us, how we can be sensible and rational and be friendly without ignoring we were once a couple. Because pretending is silly. And we’re… it’s good. We’ll be friends.’ 

She arched an eyebrow. ‘Wow. I’m impressed.’ 

‘Because that’s incredibly mature?’ 

‘Because I didn’t think you could lie to her that well.’ 

He opened his mouth to protest, but then they were next in the queue, so he had to step forward - and they were back to work. Selena watched as he walked up to the booth and pulled out his coin purse. ‘I’ll take a thousand in chips,’ he said like it was nothing, and placed the pouch on the counter. She managed to keep a straight face as the coins were poured and weighed and he was given a small box with the appropriate amount, and didn’t speak or shift her expression until they were walking away. 

‘A _thousand_.’ 

Matt frowned. ‘You think that’s enough? I wanted to keep some in reserve.’ 

She goggled despite herself. ‘How much do you _have_ in that damn pouch?’ 

‘Now? Two hundred. I wanted to walk out with _something,_ as I rather doubt we’re going to have the chance to exchange all of this. But I need to bring something to the high rollers’ table.’ 

‘…how much did you start with?’ 

‘The fifty I borrowed off Scorpius. I’m paying him back double anyway.’ 

She felt a little faint. ‘Doyle. Just how good at cards are you?’ 

He shrugged. ‘I used to play with my family. Holidays and the like. And then there was one summer, I was fourteen, I had dragonpox. All summer. Dad had it when he was little, he was fine, sat up with me lots and we played a lot of card games. I got really good.’ 

‘You got good enough to win a _thousand_ galleons at the best casino in the world by playing cards with your _dad_.’ 

‘Actually, eleven hundred and fifty- _three_. And, yeah.’ Matt gave a lopsided smirk. ‘You play cards for a whole summer against a _seer_ and you learn how to get _really_ good at poker.’ 

And there was nothing more Selena could say to that, as it was the point they got to the card table. This was one where they could sit down, but Matt gestured for her to stay standing as he greeted the well-dressed wizards around it, all of whom seemed to know him. She didn’t understand most of the terms which flew around - buy-ins, aces high, pots, antes - but she knew, at least, why she was here. 

To stand around and look pretty. It was going to be a long evening.

* * 

_‘According to Paquet,’ said Albus, hands planted on the table, ‘the auction will finish at ten o’ clock. We want to try to make our move at about half past ten. So you’ve got two hours to play some cards.’_  
  
 _‘Good,’ said Matt, ‘because if this is going to work, then I’m going to have to win, and I’m going to have to win big. Nobody’s going to care if I’m messing around with one hundred, two hundred galleons. I want that pot to be up to about five thousand before it all goes wrong. Or, in our case, right.’_

* * 

Selena was content to rest with one hand on the back of Matt’s chair as he played, chatting and smirking with the other players in a mixture of French and English, and let her gaze sweep across the Rabbit’s Foot Casino. There were easily several hundred people in there, and she knew there’d be even more on the floor above, in the conference room where the auction for the artifacts Thane and his gang were selling would be ongoing. According to Matt, it was quieter on the main floor than usual because of this - and once the auction was over, more money would flow freely across the games and tables and gambling contraptions.

She had no idea how much each chip represented, but she could see them piling up in front of Matt as the game wound on, even if he’d started with fewer than most of the people around the table. She couldn’t tell how - he sometimes gave up, sacrificing a few chips, sometimes stuck it through to win only a handful. Sometimes abandoned even a huge pot, and then, once or twice, swept the table clean. She had no idea what hands amounted to what, but so far as she could divine, from her own skills at studying the body language of the other players around the table, it was more about knowing when to quit than knowing when to push. 

So it was only because she was keenly watching all the players around the table that she saw Matt slip a card from his sleeve. 

It took until he laid down his winning hand with a triumphant smirk that the wizard to his _left_ realised what was going on, planting his palm on the table and scowling. ‘What the _hell_ was that?’

* * 

_‘The good news is that cheating isn’t hard. It’s cheating and not being_ **  
_caught_  
** _that_ _’s hard,’ said Matt. ‘So all I need to do is wait until they’re riled, they’re tense, there’s a lot of money in play, and then I need to get rumbled.’_  
  
 _Scorpius scowled._ _‘And how do you make sure you don’t get caught before_ **  
  
**_then, while you get the pot really high?_ _’_  
  
 _‘Simple.’ Matt smirked. ‘I don’t_ **  
_need_  
** _to cheat to get the pot huge in the first place.'_

* * 

‘I don’t -’

A firm hand shot out to clamp around Matt’s wrist as he reached for the chips in the middle, the other wizard’s face twisted in fury. ‘You just mucked. I _saw_ that. You little gobshite, you’ve been _cheating_ -’ 

Matt’s expression folded into a mixture of anger and fear. It was, Selena thought, a pretty good bluff. Of course, it wasn’t hard to pretend to be scared right then. If this went wrong, the consequences for cheating when there were this many galleons in play could be steep. ‘You don’t accuse a man of -’ 

‘I’m sure this can be cleared up - let’s get security, hm?’ said one of the other wizards, the man Matt had called Bellegarde. ‘We’ll have them go through the pack. If there are two of anything in his hand, there, it’ll be simple enough to determine.’ 

‘Just because you’re _losing_ ,’ Matt sneered. 

‘Do yourself a favour,’ said the wizard who still hadn’t let go of his wrist. ‘Stay sat down and don’t move.’ His gaze shot over to Selena. ‘You don’t move _either_ , you probably slipped him the damned card.’ 

Her jaw dropped - but then, she was supposed to be suspected as well. ‘I did no such thing!’ 

‘Security will sort it out,’ came Bellegarde again. ‘I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding. But we sit and wait, and in the meantime, nobody moves.’

* * 

_‘If this was some mid-level cheating, a few hundred galleons or less, or even up to a thousand, I suspect that security would just rough Matt up and toss him outside,’ said Albus, tapping his fingers against his chin thoughtfully. ‘But with this much in play, Paquet says that security will take such individuals up to see Maisson.’_  
  
 _‘And do horrible things?’ said Matt. ‘I don’t fancy getting my fingers chopped off.’_  
  
 _‘Doesn’t this get dealt with by, I don’t know, local law enforcement?’ said Rose, brow furrowing._  
  
 _‘Monaco is magically covered by the French government,’ said Albus. ‘There_ **  
_might_  
** _be someone in town, but the Rabbit_ _’s Foot has gone to great lengths to remain self-regulating. So nobody pays too much attention to what goes on behind closed doors. And this includes making sure_ **  
_nobody_  
** _dares cheat at the Rabbit_ _’s Foot Casino.’ He looked at Matt. ‘So make sure you piss them off so much they want to take you - both of you - to Maisson’s office.’_

* * 

‘A queen of hearts and… a queen of hearts.’ The security guard turned the two cards over, eyes cold as they locked on Matt. ‘If you’ll come with us, sir.’

Matt stood. ‘I don’t -’ But there were two wizards, wands in hand, who moved up to flank him. The grip on his shoulder made it clear that this summons was no request. 

Selena pursed her lips as they ignored her. This wouldn’t do. She had to be taken with him. And there was one way to make _that_ a certainty… 

‘Hey!’ That was the wizard who’d grabbed Matt in the first place, stabbing a finger in her direction as she went to slink off through the crowd. ‘Take the girl, too, I’m _sure_ she was in on it.’ 

‘He’s not had her here before,’ said Bellegarde soothingly, ‘Leave the girl be.’ 

‘He’s not played at a table with _these_ stakes before. Lulls us in a false sense of security, then brings the girl to distract and look pretty, thinking we won’t notice when he slips a card from his sleeve -’ 

One of the security guards let go of Matt to turn to her. ‘You too, then, Miss.’ He gave a polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘I’m sure if you had no involvement, this will all get cleared up quickly.’ 

_I_ _’m sure you don’t care_ , mused Selena. But she tossed her hands in the air and assumed a demeanour of long-suffering. ‘Oh, _fine_. If he wanted to be _that_ much of an idiot - what _were_ you thinking?’ She took advantage of being dragged up next to Matt to swat him on the arm. 

‘Ow!’ Matt scowled at her. She suspected this was real. 

‘Enough,’ said the first security guard. ‘We’ll take you to see Monsieur Maisson. He can clear this up.’

* * 

_‘The building’s security wards can be changed from two places - one being the main security room. That is going to be seriously guarded; there’s no way we’re getting anyone in there. Our second option is easier - and it’s also the only place from which, unknown to the_ **  
_majority_  
** _of security but fortunately known to Madame Paquet, the security wards can be turned **off**. And that_ _’s Maisson’s office.’_  
  
 _‘Isn’t that a bit silly?’ said Scorpius. ‘I mean, they’re going to march a cheater right into the middle of the control centre of the entire building and all of its protections?’_  
  
 _‘They’ll be surrounded by security,’ said Albus. ‘Maisson may or may not be there yet from the auction, but he’s no slouch himself with a wand, by all accounts. Four wizards, fully-trained and absolutely ready for anything, next to two people who have no wands, no enchantments, no disguises, absolutely no tricks on them? You can sneak a mundane card up your sleeve. You can’t waltz past the eyes of security into the Rabbit’s Foot with anything magical on you, at all.’_  
  
 _‘So how,’ said Rose, ‘are we making sure that Selena and Matt don’t get_ **  
_murdered_  
** _, let alone taking control of the wards?’_

* * 

The door to Maisson’s office was slammed shut behind the last of the three security guards who’d escorted Matt and Selena, in absolute disgrace, across the main floor of the casino and up the stairs. It was a large room, wood-panelled and old-fashioned in its decoration. The windows on the far wall left Matt bewildered for a moment, as he knew this to be an inside wall from the information off Paquet - but then he saw how it displayed an impossible view of the casino floor, and realised the view was enchanted.

The security guard who’d led their procession stopped in front of the desk. Sat behind it was a middle-aged wizard whose appearance matched the photographs they’d studied of Pierre Maisson - entrepreneur, black market dealer, and owner of the Rabbit’s Foot Casino. 

‘Monsieur?’ the guard began with absolute respect, even though Maisson was a rather short man without much presence. Money could compensate for personal charisma, Matt presumed wryly. But when Maisson looked up from the papers on his desk, his dark eyes latching not onto the security guard but Matt himself, he found his shoulders automatically tensing. 

This was not a man who was going to suffer fools gladly. 

‘I would hope this interruption is worthwhile,’ said Maisson in French, sitting up slowly. ‘Tonight has been _busy_ -’ 

Which was when the room was pitched into absolute darkness.

* * 

_‘The wards on the front door are excellent. Comparable to what you’d find at Gringotts. There is nothing your average wizard is going to do which could bypass them.’ Albus reached to the bag at his feet and pulled out a length of shimmering cloth. ‘Fortunately, I am not the average wizard.’_  
  
 _Scorpius grinned._ _‘The Invisibility Cloak.’_

* * 

Matt went to grab Selena, but he found himself clutching at thin air when she wasn’t where he’d thought she was as everything went pitch black. Then _she_ grabbed _him_ and yanked him to the floor, both of them lying flat as magic flew across the room - four spells, all in quick succession, illuminating the air around them in the briefest flash and followed by the sound of bodies hitting the ground.

And when the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder wore off, the only wizard still standing was Albus Potter. The three security guards were slumped on the floor, unmoving, and Maisson had collapsed across his desk. 

‘That went well,’ Albus said, voice taut, then he reached for the pouch at his hip, extending his arm far further in than would have been possible if its inside hadn’t been magically enlarged. From it he pulled out a bundle of clothes and two wands, tossing the former to Selena and placing the latter on the desk. ‘There you go. I’ll get the door.’ 

Matt clambered to his feet to retrieve his wand. There had been no point leaving it with security - it had been with Albus, all along. ‘I thought we’d lost you on the second flight of stairs,’ he said. ‘You’re damned quick.’

* * 

_‘I can walk past their charms and not be seen. I can carry anything on me their wards would normally pick up, and they won’t pierce the cloak. But it’s still an Invisibility Cloak, not an Intangibility Cloak -’_  
  
 _‘That would be_ cool _,_ _’ Scorpius mused._  
  
 _‘…so there are still some limitations,’ Albus continued without missing a beat. ‘I have to make sure I don’t walk into anyone. And if I just walk up to a door and open it - well, in a crowded room, that might not be a big deal. But if I wandered the corridors of the restricted sections of the building? Even_ **  
_if_  
** _I could crack the locks on the secured rooms, someone would notice a door opening and closing and be suspicious._ _’_  
  
 _‘So that’s our first job,’ Matt told Selena. ‘We get to be the Trojan Horse. Albus comes in with us, and when we’re taken upstairs to Maisson’s office, he can slip in between us. Security will literally open the doors_ **  
_for_  
** _him._ _’_  
  
 _‘And if it all works,’ Albus confirmed, ‘we have three people inside one of the major security control points for the entire building._ ’

* * 

‘I have to get changed in front of you two?’ Selena protested as she straightened out the security guard uniform they’d managed to replicate over the last week.

‘Do you _see_ anywhere with privacy?’ Matt waved a hand around the room. 

‘Watch the door,’ said Albus to him, heading for the desk. He planted another charm on Maisson, before hauling the man off his chair and dumping him onto the floor. ‘Looks like the auction’s over. That’s good. Everything should be in place.’ 

‘You’re sure you can bring these wards down?’ Matt slunk over to the door as Selena moved to a corner, turned her back to them, and muttered venomously as she pulled off her dress and began to pour herself into the rather more conservative uniform. He kept his eyes _dedicatedly_ on the office door. 

‘I mastered the wards at Hogwarts, adapted and altered them to our need for months,’ said Albus. ‘I’m confident that the Rabbit’s Foot’s aren’t going to be _that_ much more sophisticated. We’re talking about two places of comparable magical importance and need for security. I don’t need to jimmy that much with the protections on the main entrance, for example - I _shouldn_ _’t_ , that’ll make it more likely that someone will notice what’s wrong.’ 

‘So you’re not lowering everything?’ 

‘Of course not,’ said Albus. He’d opened the drawer in Maisson’s desk within which sat the control gem, glinting and pulsing with its power, and he reached to Maisson to take the man’s wand before he flicked it at the gem. ‘Just the target locations. Oh, and the roof, of course.’ 

Matt pulled out his pocket-watch. ‘Five minutes until it’s time.’ 

‘Excellent. I can do this in five minutes. Oh - one thing.’ Albus reached with his free hand to his pouch and pulled out something which made Matt blink. It looked like only the hilt of the sword, broken off after all of an inch of blade, which had been tucked into a tiny pouch of leather from which dangled a strap. ‘A gift. Courtesy of Rose.’ 

He slid it across the ground, and Matt picked it up, peering with confusion before he tugged on the hilt - and the full length of the blade came sliding out of the impossibly tiny scabbard. ‘Extendable Charm on the scabbard,’ he said with surprise. ‘Nice. I should have thought of that, it’s obvious.’ 

‘Or, not obvious.’ Albus smirked. ‘Wear that under your robes, nobody’s going to see you’re carrying a ruddy great sword with you.’ 

‘I thought you said it was a waste of time?’ 

‘I did,’ said Albus, still manipulating the wards. ‘And then I realised that something pulsing anti-magic might be _really_ useful if you’re going to have to break into a vault.’ 

Selena turned around. ‘I’m done,’ she said as she pulled her hair - turned black by a simple charm - into a more severe ponytail, now looking far less like a glamorous charmer to stand on Matt’s arm, and more like a professional member of the Rabbit’s Foot Casino’s staff. 

As she said that, the air around them visibly rippled, and Albus wore a small smile, lifting his head. ‘Don’t worry. They won’t feel that outside. And there’s still more work to do. But that’s the roof protections deactivated.’

* * 

_‘There are very few ways into the building which aren’t watched by security. If we want anyone else in the building, they can’t walk in through any of the doors. Floo is going to be impossible. The apparition wards are so absolutely fundamental I can’t bring them down - those are charmed into the stonework itself. But we can’t do this with just three people, and there’s no way I can think of for us to get anyone else off the casino floor and onto the upper levels,’ said Albus._  
  
 _‘So what’s the other way?’ asked Matt._  
  
 _Albus looked at Scorpius who, despite the bags under his eyes, gave a firm smirk, and said, simply,_ _‘Up.’_

* * 

‘I don’t like this,’ said Scorpius, looking down at himself. It wasn’t that he could see _through_ himself, but it felt like it, with the colours across his padded jacket taking on the same hues and textures as the rooftop he was stood on. Camouflaging charms were supposed to make him blend in; that was great except for when it made him feel like he wasn’t actually _there_.

‘What _would_ you like?’ Rose barely raised her voice above a whisper, crouched at the edge of the rooftop and peering across the several buildings and roads between them and Rabbit’s Foot Casino. They were still in Muggle Monte Carlo, but concentration and passing by the front door had made the casino visible to them. It made the cityscape warp around the edges if Scorpius looked for too long, made it clear that space had been crumpled up and flattened out to slip the casino in between two buildings where there wasn’t supposed to be space for it. 

There were two ways of doing it, Rose had said. The first was to stretch real-space, to flatten it out and eke every single millimetre from it, hidden from Muggle eyes. The second was to fold the space already there, making metres look like inches from the outside, but massive on the inside. The latter was easiest, but it required that the Muggles wouldn’t notice the space was gone in the first place. Diagon Alley, for instance, was folded, because it had been successfully lost in the streets of London over the hundreds of years, apparently folded inch by inch for centuries until it was completely hidden. The Rabbit’s Foot Casino was less than two hundred years old; Muggles would have noticed the disappearance of a whole building, and so expensive and powerful magics had allowed Maisson’s predecessors to steal precious inches of real-estate and turn it into a fortress. 

Scorpius swatted at his arm. It did, of course, nothing. ‘Invisibility? I’d like invisibility.’ 

‘Albus has the cloak.’ 

‘I _know_. Is he done yet? It’s past ten.’ 

‘It’s not half-past. He’ll be done at half-past. That’s when we go.’ 

‘Can you tell? Because if he’s not done by then and we go then we _will_ be noticed, and also, those charms might _flatten_ us. I don’t want to do a pancake impression against thin air.’ 

Rose looked over, lips pursed with the air of aggravation he once delighted in provoking from her. It was hard to find satisfaction in such irritation under these circumstances - their job, their relationship. ‘Do you trust Albus?’ 

He scowled. ‘That’s a low blow - of _course_ I trust Albus.’ 

‘Then trust that he’ll be done at half past!’ 

Scorpius muttered under his breath and reached for his pocket-watch, Sirius Black’s old pocket-watch. Twenty past. Still plenty of time - for things to go wrong. He sighed. ‘Do you trust _me_?’ 

Rose had been studying the building but at this she looked over, startled. ‘What?’ 

‘Do you trust me?’ He stepped up beside her, slinging his broom over his shoulder. ‘Because I want us spending as little time airborne as possible to avoid notice from Muggles, from security. We’ve got to travel a hundred and fifty metres and if we’re taking more than ten seconds then I think that’s _too_ long. So that’s, what, thirty-five miles per hour? On a broom? Hitting a gap of about two metres wide?’ 

‘Stop swapping between metric and imperial measurements,’ Rose muttered. 

He looked over at her - or a bit through her, the camouflaging charm was _really_ disconcerting - and gave a lopsided, smirking grimace. ‘I’m just saying, you get to trust me, too, for us to get there without dying or being spotted.’ 

She looked away. ‘I trust your flying.’ 

He tried to ignore the stab of hurt there. Did he deserve that, for what he’d done? Was it fair, when she’d gone running to Matt the moment things had gone wrong? Now wasn’t the time. ‘That’s optimistic,’ he mused. ‘Seeing as I’ve not flown _seriously_ since last season.’ 

‘And didn’t you _lose_ the Cup last year?’ 

He gave an exaggerated scowl. ‘Gryffindor still had James Potter. We won our match against Hufflepuff.’ 

She flinched. ‘I remember.’ 

_Of course. You got with Hector right after that._ Scorpius glared across the buildings at the Rabbit’s Foot Casino. He’d hated Hector Flynn so _badly_ that match. He’d been only a week out from the messy breakup with Miranda, where suspicion and hints and poor obfuscation had led him to outright challenge her on her fidelity - and she’d not denied it. He’d sworn to himself that the least he could do was crush Hufflepuff at Quidditch, and he had, he’d played his heart out. Even if Gryffindor had been too far ahead after completely annihilating Ravenclaw, he’d sworn the match would matter on a personal basis, and he and Albus had never been more synchronised as players, dragging their third Chaser, young Drake, with them to crush the opposition. 

They’d won, he’d not cheered, he’d just felt some _small_ sense of satisfaction, and then afterwards he’d seen Hector Flynn not destroyed and defeated, but snogging the face off Rose Weasley. It had been hard to not hate them both for that, a little - for denying him the one vengeance he could claim. So he hadn’t _tried_ to not hate them. 

His pocket-watch chose to be merciful at that moment, though, and chimed - just as Rose’s did, and they both reached to turn them off. Scorpius gave a tight, humourless smile. ‘I guess one of us gets to be proved right,’ he said. 

‘Firstly, I didn’t say I expect this to go wrong,’ said Rose, turning her nose upward haughtily. ‘Second, even if I did, I would be proved right only _very_ briefly.’ 

There was a little reassurance in there, a little self-mocking humour, and that went some way to loosening the tension in his gut as he swung his broom from his shoulder and climbed up. ‘Let’s rock and roll. Hop on.’ 

Her lips twitched as she pulled herself onto the broom behind him, grip ginger as she wrapped her arms around his midriff. ‘Only you would say that in the face of danger.’ 

‘I’m Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy,’ he said, voice taking on a light, self-mocking tone. ‘Danger is my bread. Adventure is my butter. Death is the jam I spread on top - the chunky, fresh, fruity stuff.’ 

He felt her shoulders shake with a suppressed chuckle, then she was leaning up, planting a kiss on his cheek. ‘Speak to you in about ten seconds.’ 

It was the first acknowledgement all week that they were, technically, still a couple, and despite it all he clung to the genuine confidence that affection gave him. They could talk. They could fix this. But in the meantime, he had to do something desperately dangerous and, if it worked, seriously awesome. 

‘Or less!’ he said with mock cheer, before he kicked his broom off the ground, whirled it around to face the Rabbit’s Foot Casino, narrowed his eyes at his destination - and then they were off, bent low over the handle, picking up speed on this world-class model of broom to catapult themselves above the night-clad streets of Monte Carlo, a blur over the thousands of pinpricks of light of fuss and life below.

* * 

_‘There aren’t many physical entrances. Breaking in through a window is stupid, we have no idea who’s going to be where and we want to be discreet for as long as possible. But there_ is _a roof access._ _’ Rose pointed to the top of the display of the casino. ‘Handling all of this international travel, the Rabbit’s Foot has its own Floo. Which means it has a Floo chimney - it must, to disperse that much wasted magical essence.’_  
  
 _‘You’re going_ down _the Floo chimney,_ _’ said Matt in a flat voice. ‘Isn’t that going to be protected?’_  
  
 _‘I’ll kill the protections,’ said Albus._  
  
 _‘Isn’t that going to risk hitting a Floo transit and being splinched to hell and back?’_  
  
 _‘I’ll kill the Floo, as well. Just for a couple of minutes, so nobody notices. You use a camouflage charm to not be spotted by Muggles or security, hit the Floo chute, and then, bam, you’re inside.’_  
  
 _Scorpius gave him a smug look._ _‘You’re making a feat of aerobatic derring-do sound easy.’_  
  
 _Albus snorted._ _‘If there’s one thing which synchronising separate groups to make their entry into the upper levels of the Rabbit’s Foot Casino unnoticed by security at the same time_ isn’t _going to be, it_ _’s easy.’_

* * 

‘Ohshitohshit-’

Scorpius thought he could hear his heart screaming that at him, over and over, until he realised it was Rose hissing oaths under her breath. The wind whipped through his hair, slapping at his face, but still he kept low, didn’t lessen the speed, kept the broom hurtling. Buildings and streets raced underneath as he kept his focus on the goal ahead - the slanted roof of the Rabbit’s Foot, the chimney flue. 

Rose cut off as he shoved the handle of his broom _down_. He’d had to aim high above the casino, which wasn’t ideal, because he was going to have to hit the flue at as much of a vertical drop as possible if he didn’t want to stop and hover, and that meant more time in the air, out in the open. 

There was no telling how many human eyes would be watching, inside and outside of the casino. They didn’t want to be spotted by Muggles, because camouflaging spells were only _good_ , not perfect. And they _really_ didn’t want to be spotted by security. 

He was pretty sure that by now they’d passed any magical barriers which would have prevented them from doing exactly what they were trying to do - fly into the proximity of the building. Which meant, if this was the case, that Albus had successfully brought them down. So there would be no protections around the chimney flue to prevent them from doing _this_ , too, and there was no safety in slowing down to check, because if they were spotted it was all over. Just as it would be all over if he flew them flat into a magical barrier, or missed his mark and flew them flat into the rooftop. 

‘Tuck in,’ he hissed at Rose, and couldn’t tell if the wind had stolen his words as they fell into a dead drop on the last few metres, rocketing at the roof of the Rabbit’s Foot, at the tiny gap of the flue which came racing up at them - 

\- and around as he expertly flew them right through the narrow gap, then all was dark and he kicked his feet down to put the brakes on the broom as much as he could. But the gap was small and the flue began to twist and turn, and then they were in less of a controlled descent as tumbling through the narrow passageway of the chimney flue, gripping wildly onto the broom to stop them from travelling at tens of miles an hour, in the absolute pitch black - 

Then Scorpius hit something, heard and felt the cracking of wood and prayed it wasn’t his broom, before he tumbled sideways and landed face-first in a thick, lustrous, and now soot-coated carpet, coughing and sputtering as the ashes flew up his nose, down his throat. 

Rose was lying next to him, groaning and also coughing, and if the room with this Floo-enabled fireplace had anyone else in it, there wasn’t a damn thing they could do to recover their wits and defend themselves. He looked up, still sputtering, eyes watering as his gaze swept around the tidy waiting room which proved to be mercifully empty, and wiped his hands on his trousers before he tried to get soot from his eyes. This just seemed to spread it. 

‘Chunky, fresh, fruity jam?’ Rose coughed. 

‘That’s how you know it’s _really_ good home-made stuff.’ Scorpius blinked, eyes streaming still. ‘Oh my God, I’ve got soot in places I didn’t know I _had_.’ 

Still sputtering, Rose pulled out her wand and set about cleaning them off, so they could see and function and concentrate, and also so they didn’t leave dark tracks telling anyone who travelled in their wake exactly where they’d gone. It would hardly be discreet in what was supposed to be a subtle infiltration. 

‘That was actually fifteen seconds,’ said Rose when they were done, and she got to her feet, moving stiffly. ‘Also, if we can take a different way _out_ , I would be thrilled.’ 

‘I’m working on the way out,’ Scorpius said. ‘Something will present itself. In the meantime… welcome to the Rabbit’s Foot Casino.’

* * 

_‘Paquet told us that there are three vaults in the casino,’ said Albus. ‘And the problem is that we’re not sure where the Chalice is going to be. We can make some educated guesses, but nothing is certain. However, we can narrow it down to two_ _options._ _’ He pointed at the lower levels of the illusion, the ones showing the great underground vaults. ‘It won’t be in the main vaults, where all of the gold on-location is officially held. That’s for the legitimate gambling, and all the legitimate business of the place. If something like the Chalice was found down there, way too many questions would be asked._  
  
 _‘So this leads us to the two other vaults. One is the larger containment vault on the middle levels where apparently all of the artifacts will be held before the auction, and after the auction the proceeds will be held there. It’s possible that the Chalice is going to be in with that. This vault’s only a floor above Maisson’s office. Once the wards are down and the office is secure, Matt’s going to make his way there while Selena heads back to the main casino floor to do her thing.’_  
  
 _‘What makes us think it’s_ not _going to be in there?_ _’ said Rose._  
  
 _‘Because the upper levels of the Rabbit’s Foot are given over for conference rooms and_ guest _rooms. Personal guests of Maisson, people who are here to have their business meetings and will be there for the auction - and possibly Thane, Raskoph, and the rest of his people. Maisson also offers an exclusive vault for the_ personal _belongings of his guests. While it_ _’s possible that Thane gave the Chalice over to be held with the rest of what they took from Badenheim, it’s equally likely he had it placed in this. It’s near the roof.’_  
  
 _Scorpius nodded._ _‘Which is where we’re going.’_  
  
 _‘Rose and Scorpius take the rooftop entrance and make for the personal vaults, then get out any way they can - back the way they came if needs be. Matt goes for the middle vault, and Selena will arrange his extraction. I’ll hold down Maisson’s office to keep the wards down for as long as possible, until security are bashing at the door and I can’t delay them, and then I’ll take the cloak and at worst_ run _out the front door._ _’_  
  
 _‘So this is how we get in, and how we get to the vaults.’ Scorpius looked across the five of them. ‘Everything from there should be easy as pie, then.’_  
  
 _Selena rolled her eyes._ _‘I cannot_ believe _you said that.’_


	19. Upping the Ante

‘We’re lucky this place didn’t have anyone in it,’ Scorpius muttered as he yanked off his Quidditch padding and tossed it to Rose, who shoved it in her bag, the both of them now in much simpler clothing where they wouldn’t look out of place at a glance. ‘I still think we should have gone for a window.’ 

‘And denied you the chance to pull off _that_ stunt?’ Rose sounded dimly amused. ‘Problem with a window is that someone might see us coming. This way, we could burst in unexpectedly and Stun anyone we landed in front of. Or, that was the theory. Yeah, in practice, we spent the time choking.’ 

‘We got lucky.’ He frowned with dissatisfaction. 

‘We _live_ off luck.’ Rose turned to him, lips pursed as if she might say something - but she didn’t, just shook her head and turned to the door. ‘We’d better be on the move.’ 

‘Yeah, _now_ all we have to do is run down corridors in a section of a super-secure building we’re not even supposed to be in.’ Unhappy, Scorpius passed his broom over for her to slip that, too, into the holding bag. He wanted it close to hand, but it wasn’t exactly inconspicuous. 

‘We have to work off the simple premise,’ said Rose, ‘that anyone will assume that, if we’re here, we’re _supposed_ to be here.’ 

‘Which will become less likely when people realise the wards have come down.’ 

‘So let’s move before they realise this.’ She headed for the door, cautious before she tugged it open and looked outside. ‘It’s empty, but - ugh, this whole place is going to look the same.’ 

‘Do you know where you’re going?’ he asked as he followed her into the long corridor, row upon row of doors all looking identical. 

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Down two floors, third turn on the left, second door on the right - you were supposed to memorise this, too!’ 

‘I did,’ Scorpius lied. ‘I was just _testing_ you.’ 

She scowled, but said nothing as they tromped down the corridor until they reached the stairway at the far end. There had been no sign of anyone else - guest, staff, _security_ \- for which he was grateful, but apprehensive as they padded down the two flights of stairs. It wasn’t as if this would last forever, it wasn’t as if the guest section would be devoid of defences. 

But at this point they were more-or-less playing it by ear. 

The corridors two floors below were the same plush carpet, but the walls on either side were glass, not solid, though tinted to give only a murky view of what was inside. For the first stretch of this corridor they were flanked by empty conference rooms, broad tables and tall, black chairs sat in the dark, abandoned at this time of night. 

‘How many meetings would they expect to bloody hold here?’ Scorpius muttered to himself, letting Rose lead the way. 

‘I really don’t know, Scorpius,’ she said in a low voice, shoulders tense. ‘First left… second left…’ 

‘I mean, look at that.’ He stopped at the last of the conference rooms before the corridor made way for more imposing, solid walls and solid doors ahead, and stabbed a finger at the window. ‘That’s got an illusionary projector in there - you could get a whole tonne of people in there to watch a Falcons game, it’d be -’ 

Then he looked to Rose, only to find her gone, and swore under his breath. _Third on the left_. She must have given up on listening to his wittering, and he hurried to the corner to catch up. 

‘Hey!’ The voice came from around the corner, and it _wasn_ _’t_ Rose. Scorpius skidded to a halt before the bend, heart pounding in his chest, as the male voice carried on, footsteps stomping towards him - and, presumably, to where Rose was just metres away from him, around the corner, out of his sight. 

‘You’re not supposed to be here!’

* * 

‘Sure,’ Matt muttered to himself as he tightened his robes and stalked down the corridor away from Maisson’s office. ‘Win hundreds and hundreds of galleons at poker. Get caught cheating. Be in danger of getting your fingers chopped off by casino owners. Then run around on your own when security will be primed to pitch a fit! Great plan!’ 

He wasn’t angry - not really. The plan needed to happen, and the vault on fifth floor needed to be checked out. Albus had outlined his responsibilities even if the Chalice _wasn_ _’t_ there, and not only was it sensible, the prospect brought a smirk to his face. Anything which set back Maisson and his crooked business, and _especially_ anything which set back Prometheus Thane, was a great prospect so far as he was concerned. 

But he was the only one of them running around in the open in what he would deem ‘hostile territory’ with no backup. Sure, Albus was still in Maisson’s office, but with every step, Matt moved further away from him. Besides, Albus had to stay in the office. If Albus left the office, things had gone horribly wrong, and his job would get harder. 

He nudged the stairway door open with a foot before sticking his head through the gap to peer up and down. Nobody, and no sound of echoing footsteps. Perfect. He stuck to the walls as he prowled up the stairs, one hand clutching his wand before him tightly, the other moving to his hip without him even thinking about it - or, more precisely, to the hilt of the sword. 

It was stupid, he knew that. All the reading in the world didn’t make a sword a sensible weapon. But enchantments like the ones it sported were old magics, old and powerful, and it was something unexpected. Right then, unexpected felt like the best route to victory. 

He paused at the door to the fifth floor. The auction was long over, and Matt was sure the black market dignitaries who’d battled with wealth for the relics from Badenheim would be down on the casino floor or in their rooms, celebrating their successes or lamenting their losses. That did not preclude activity where the auction had been held, and where the casino’s ill-gotten gains would be stored. 

_Left, left, right_ \- 

He stopped at every corner, flicked a mirror from his pocket around the turn to check it before he went around, this part of the building mercifully quiet. Security would be on the floor below, in the central control room, or - ideally - down on the casino floor where Selena could distract them. 

Or get herself caught. 

_No, no, focus on your_ own _job - not on her, not on Rose -_   
  
_Rose, doing a stupid feat of acrobatics, life literally in Malfoy_ _’s hands_ \- 

He was _not_ focusing when he put his back to the wall of the last corner, flicked his mirror around the turn, and so almost bolted into the open without thinking before he stopped and processed what he was seeing. This stretch of corridor led to the second vault, and the door was indeed at the far end, huge and circular and not quite so secure as its owners would think, if Albus had brought down the bulk of the protections. 

But not all. Because some were innate to the door itself, and two protections took the form of a pair of security guards flanking the great vault doors. 

This was fine, Matt told himself. He was ready for this. He’d been given everything he needed for this, and grinned crookedly to himself as he reached to his pocket to pull out something else Albus had given him - a pinch of the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. He knew, all-too-well, the powers of Albus’ uncle’s tricks and toys. It had worked in the office, it would work here. 

Like clockwork. He confirmed with his mirror where the two guards were, stepped out for just a heartbeat to toss the powder, and then the light from his wand sparked in the gloom for a pair of Stuns in quick succession to hit the targets. And when the darkness faded he was down the corridor, in front of the great vault door, stood over the form of the two fallen security guards, neither of them moving. 

He grinned to himself as he kicked the wand free from the stiff hand of one of them. ‘Just to be sure,’ he said. ‘Don’t want you -’ 

‘ _Expelliarmus_ -’ 

Matt swore as his wand flew from his hand and landed halfway down the corridor. He whipped around to see the other security guard sitting up, clutching the shoulder but not taken out of action by the Stun, and pointing the wand directly at him. 

Maybe not _exactly_ like clockwork.

* * 

The illusions of the interior of the Rabbit’s Foot Casino swirled above Pierre Maisson’s desk, granting Albus the perfect view of the building, its defences, its security. The security guards weren’t magically tagged, but their current assignments and patrol routes were marked, so anyone could monitor where guards were _supposed_ to be at a set time. 

Bringing down the wards hadn’t been the hard part. Bringing down the wards and making it look, to central security, like everything was still _working_ was harder. But there were certain fundamentals to magical protective wards of a building, and the Rabbit’s Foot’s were not so dissimilar to Hogwarts’. He had spent months studying the wards of Hogwarts from the outside, then months using them from the Headmaster’s Office. They were complicated but not impossible, and with this direct access he could make them do pretty much whatever he wanted. 

So the only threat now was human error and plain bad luck. If they were fortunate, everyone could get in and out without raising the alarm. In truth, Albus didn’t expect this to happen. Someone would wonder where the three security guards who’d escorted Matt and Selena were. Someone would want to talk to Maisson. Someone might double-check the wards from the security centre and while they’d see nothing at a glance, proper investigation would blow them open. 

Or one of the other four would screw something up. But this was all out of Albus’ hands. All he could do was stand, and watch, and wait. 

And swear under his breath when the inevitable knocking on the door came, along with someone outside calling politely for Monsieur Maisson’s attention.

* * 

Lurking in the stairway wasn’t Selena’s best plan. But she was wearing a facsimile of a security guard’s uniform, enough to let her walk without close scrutiny, and she had to pray that Paquet’s belief the security staff was big enough that a new face wouldn’t be too unusual was accurate. 

She didn’t like waiting. And, more so than anyone else in the plan, her role was reactive. If everything went well, she wouldn’t have to do a damned thing. But, worse than that, she had no way of telling for _sure_ if she needed to act. She just had to watch security, the guests, the staff - see if tension ran through the room, see if people became concerned, see if people began heading upstairs. 

On the one hand, she’d been given this job because she wasn’t going to perform aerial acrobatics, or break through a vault door, or control the security wards of a building. She knew that she was ‘the spare’ so far as planning on paper went. But if there was one thing Selena Rourke knew how to do well, it was read a room, and reading the room at the right time could be the difference between success or failure. 

Which was why she watched Paquet, back at work with a scrubbed memory and no knowledge of how much she’d compromised her employer’s security. Which was why she tensed when two guards hurried over to the security chief, the three of them consulting in low voices, shoulders stiff. 

Which was why she knew that it was time to move when Paquet sent the two guards for the other stairwell. She headed onto the main casino floor, her destination the far side of the room. 

She wasn’t going to follow the guards Paquet had dispatched. No, her destination was somewhere else, and she could move unhindered so long as she strode with purpose and wore the right clothes. She had to go _down_.

* * 

‘The conference section’s been closed off, ma’am.’ Though the security guard’s voice was polite, Scorpius could hear the edge in it. He was only treating Rose as a possible guest on the off-chance he was wrong - but he sure as hell believed her to be an interloper. ‘You’re supposed to be in the guest section or on the casino floor.’ 

‘Er…’ 

Rose was not the best at coming up with bullshit with little notice. But, then, it would be hard to come up with a fib which would suffice in the face of paranoid security guards. 

Hard, but not impossible. 

Scorpius looked around wildly - then unbuttoned his cuffs, rolled up his sleeves, and reached to his pocket to pull out the piece of paper that held the map leading them to the vault. A flash of his wand duplicated it into a stack of papers; another wave made the map on the top sheet look like writing instead of a map, gibberish if anyone looked too close. 

If they looked too close, he was already screwed. 

He reached for the door to the nearest conference room, opening and closing it noisily behind him before he ambled around the corner, mussing his hair and holding the stack of papers. And forced himself to blink with muggy surprise at the scene before him. 

Rose wore inconspicuous and plain clothing, but was still an unknown woman wandering around the conference section of the Rabbit’s Foot. She remained startled in the face of the burly security guard who stood before her, arms folded across his chest, wand tucked into one hand. The guard turned to Scorpius as he appeared, and raised an eyebrow. ‘Sir, the -’ 

‘What’s the problem here?’ Scorpius assumed the air of haughty indifference he so often saw on his father’s face. 

The guard blinked. He had clearly expected to be the one doing the challenging. ‘Er, the conference section is… closed, sir?’ 

‘It _was_ closed. Miss Bagman here and I had to finalise some of the arrangements after the auction for her employer. Monsieur Maisson told me to use the conference room for privacy.’ Scorpius turned away from the guard as if he was already dismissed. ‘I still have some concerns about the handover protocol for the Skull.’ 

He could not, for the life of him, remember the full name of the relic from Badenheim which Kerner had told them was a skull. That said, shorthand references sounded more casual in a bluff _anyway_ , and he was hoping that sounding like he knew what happened in the auction gave an air of authenticity. 

Or it would make him sound like he knew more than he was supposed to know. 

Rose, to her credit, rallied magnificently, giving him a frown. ‘I was going to fetch a drink, Mister Hemingway, I didn’t realise this would be a problem with your staff.’ 

He straightened. ‘It’s no problem. I had assumed Madam Paquet would informher staff we were still up here.’ He cast the guard an accusing look, as if it was his fault they were possibly in trouble. 

‘My employer would like this dealt with _tonight_ ,’ Rose continued. 

‘As does Monsieur Maisson!’ Scorpius let a wheedling tone enter his voice, then reached for her elbow. ‘If you’ll just come back and sit down, I’ll have some water brought up for you -’ 

‘Er -’ The guard looked nonplussed by now. 

‘Not by you,’ said Scorpius, turning to him. ‘I think you’d better get back to your patrols now, good chap?’ 

It was all about tone. Reassurance, insistence, and the gentle implication of accusation. As if this problem, being the guard’s own fault, would go away if he went back to his job and carried on with what he was doing. 

The man’s expression shifted for a moment, before he gave a short nod. ‘…I’ll be at my station downstairs if you need anything, sir,’ he said, then straightened and went to pass them. ‘You both have a good evening.’ 

They smiled, but stayed put as the guard turned the corner they’d come from and carried on. Not a word was said until his footsteps were cut off by the sound of the stairwell door swinging open and shut, and then there was silence. 

Rose let out a deep sigh. ‘Bloody hell. That was close.’ She gave him a lopsided smile. ‘Nice work.’ 

‘It’s amazing how much looking beleaguered and official with a stack of papers can get you through any trouble,’ said Scorpius, dismissing the duplicated paperwork. ‘But you joined in pretty well.’ 

‘Seriously, though, Bagman?’ 

‘I needed a name and Quidditch came to mind first! Who the hell’s Hemingway?’ 

She rolled her eyes. ‘Purebloods. Never mind. This way.’ 

‘And check corners more closely.’

* * 

‘ _Stupefy!_ _’_

Matt threw himself against the wall, the fallen security guard’s blast flashing in front of his nose before it hit the ceiling. His booted foot lashed out to hit the man in the hip, knocking him back to the floor, but he wasn’t out for the count and rolled to his knees, wand snapping up. 

Instinct took over, and his empty hands reached for the first thing they could find - the heavy hilt of the Templar sword at his left hip, the blade hidden from sight by its miniature, internally expanded scabbard. He drew it in one smooth motion, the weight as comfortable as it had ever been, like it was _made_ for his hand, and he saw the flash in the guard’s eyes as suddenly the disarmed wizard before him was now a wizard with a ruddy great sword. 

Hesitation arose. Swinging for the guard meant he was swinging a sword at a human being, and he hadn’t put the charm up to make the impact only blunt. Said charm would also make it unlikely to do more than knock someone off their feet, and certainly not take them out of a fight. But waving his sword threateningly would probably result in another quick _Expelliarmus_ and then he’d be disarmed again.

Then the guard’s wand came jerking up, and he acted. Two quick steps, a lunge, slamming the sword forward with all of his might, a sickening crunch -

\- and the guard froze as the sword rammed through the plaster wall to embed itself right next to his head.

 _On the one hand, this might make him panic and give up,_ Matt mused to himself. _On the other, I’ve now completely trapped my only weapon._

‘I wouldn’t try anything,’ he said in a low voice, gaze locking onto the guard’s and hoping that he sounded intimidating and threatening rather than a bewildered and somewhat out-of-his-depth seventeen year-old. ‘Or my next blow won’t miss. Understood?’

The guard took one look at the sword that had been inches from giving him a permanent haircut, one look at Matt, and slumped. When Matt reached to tug the wand from his hand, he didn’t resist, and from there it was a simple thing to hit him with a Stupefy, tug his sword free, and straighten up.

He retrieved his wand and turned to the vault door, huge and imposing and solid before him, the hatch handle about as long as his arm and made of gleaming brass. ‘Right. You’ve just got basic protections and I -’ He stopped, and turned his irritated gaze on the blade in his hand ‘…have a sword which chops through basic magical protections.’

_Does it make you smart if you deal with every problem with a sword?_

‘Shut up,’ he told the internal voice which was sounding more and more like Scorpius Malfoy, before he snatched up the blade and swung it at the vault door.

The flash of disrupting magic was almost blinding, and the shockwave of energy dissipating after such a forceful collapse of the wards was almost enough to knock him off his feet. The sword’s disruption was a form of magic at one moment more brutal and clumsy than pulling the wards apart with his wand would have been - but at the same time, the enchantments on the sword were ancient, powerful, and deeply sophisticated, if they allowed metal to carve through magic like it was butter.

His grin was self-mocking when he pulled the vault door open, and saw the piles upon piles of galleons inside. No Chalice, but he’d personally not expected it to still be here.

He could cope with the second-best thing.

‘So, Council of Thorns, you were expecting to have all of this money to fund your rampage of terror?’ he sneered, sheathing his sword and pulling out one of Rose’s internally extending bags that Albus had given him. ‘I’m so _sorry_ to disappoint.’

He just hoped the bag was big enough to hold _all_ of the money.

* * 

_Okay_ , thought Albus calmly. _You knew this wouldn_ _’t last forever. So it’s time to jimmy the wards so anyone who takes this room won’t easily put the protections back up, and get out of here._   
  
His wand swished across the control mechanisms on the wardings. ‘New lockdown protocol,’ he muttered, and the illusion shimmered in acknowledgement of his commands. ‘Release code, er. Apple. Gravy. Wronsky Feint.’ _Why are foods and Quidditch the first things which come to mind?_ ‘Engage lockdown.’ 

The illusion powered down, the shimmering image fading to nothing, and Albus smirked to himself. They could access the wards via means other than figuring out his random selection of words, but it would take time, and this was all about time. He’d done as much as he could. 

Albus grabbed the Invisibility Cloak and slid to a spot next to the door, shrouded himself, and waited. The person outside wouldn’t wait forever, though they’d gone silent, and he suspected was flagging down security guards. It was just a locked door, after all, and once staffers of the Rabbit’s Foot realised something was wrong in Maisson’s office, they’d get access. 

And when they did - when they stormed in, concerned and panicked, and saw the fallen security guards, saw their employer collapsed on the floor, realised what had happened - they would be so shocked that slipping past them, out the open door, into the corridor, would be a piece of cake. 

It took another five minutes before the door rattled, then there was the blast of magic, then a pair of security guards burst in and reacted much as he expected. Sliding along the wall, then past them into the corridor, happened as he’d expected. Out. Undetected. Free. And now with a job no more pertinent than to escape, and hope the others had done their parts. 

But there was a lot of shouting by then, the security guards flying into a panic as they realised what was going on, raising the alarm and calling to one another. It would be enough to rattle anyone in the immediate vicinity, enough to let them know something was wrong, that there had been a security breach. 

So Albus figured he was home free only until he heard the screaming from behind a closed door.

* * 

_Here we go_ , thought Selena as she saw security guards move away from the casino floor, before she ducked down into the stairwell towards the central vault, the long and winding steps into the well-lit subterranean passageways. There was no way, they’d all agreed, that they were going to break into the main vault. There were several security checkpoints, and wardings controlled from different sections. They’d need about four people in four different parts of the building at once, all synchronised and working exclusively to affect the main vault’s protections to even _think_ about piercing the defences. 

It wasn’t going to happen. It just wasn’t worth it. But if security thought that there was already a breach in progress, they would be all-too quick to assume that the biggest repository of galleons outside of a Gringott’s in all of Europe would be the target. 

The alarm wasn’t fully raised yet. For now it was just rattled security guards, word fluttering down corridors that something might have gone wrong, no official word yet from Paquet one way or another. This was good - it meant she could walk past the first checkpoint without any concern, her security tags sufficient for her to just have a nod and to be waved on through. 

It wouldn’t work for her to get deeper, but she didn’t need to get deeper. She just had to set up a delayed blast charm around the corner from the next checkpoint, giving herself a minute to get clear. When it went off, she’d be far away, and getting to one of the charmed orbs back up the stairway which she could use to set off the main alarm. 

The alarm which would tell the Rabbit’s Foot’s security that the attack was going on in the underground vault, not at either of the vaults on the upper levels. 

That was the easy part. The hard part would be joining the crowd of security who’d come down and then slipping away without drawing attention. And so in that way, Selena mused as she pressed the orb in the wall and heard the wailing of alarms that came soon after, her ‘spare’ job was probably the most dangerous of everyone’s.

* * 

‘Okay, this is it.’ Rose stepped over the fallen security guard and knelt before the vault door, pressing her wand to the tip. ‘Now keep an eye out as we get these wards down.’ 

‘I thought the wards _were_ down!’ Scorpius glowered as he swished his wand to tie up the two guards they’d ambushed. Then he pressed his back to the wall, presenting a narrower profile if anyone else came around the corner. He didn’t think anyone would. They’d been quiet as they’d slunk through the guest section of the casino, most people mercifully busy downstairs. 

‘The main wards are down. But it’s still a charmed door. Don’t worry - this is pretty easy. It would just be _impossible_ if Albus hadn’t done his work. So we know he’s probably fine, at least, or these wards would be back up.’ 

‘I didn’t know you were an expert in wards.’ 

‘There’s a lot of my expertise you didn’t know,’ Rose murmured. ‘Like Legilimency.’ 

‘You never said!’ 

‘ _You_ never _asked_!’ She let out a deep breath. ‘…this isn’t the time for this.’ 

‘Yeah,’ Scorpius said, bitterness creeping into his voice as he glowered back down the corridor. ‘It’s never time for us to talk.’ 

She scoffed. ‘ _That_ _’s_ bloody rich, coming from _you_. Were you planning on talking about Paris, like, _ever_ -’ 

‘I thought you’d talked about it plenty! I thought you and Doyle had had a _lovely_ discussion about -’ 

‘I didn’t tell Matt _anything_!’ she snapped, rising to her feet, and he whirled to face her, furiously seeking the tell-tale signs of her deception he knew he’d be able to spot. 

Except they weren’t there. 

‘Of _course_ I didn’t tell Matt anything!’ Rose said. ‘You think I’m that cruel to either one of you, to tell my ex about our relationship problems? Besides! What the hell is there to _tell_ him? That you can’t stand to - to -’ 

Then she choked on the words, and Scorpius realised she was right. This was absolutely _not_ the time to talk about this. He stepped back. ‘You should - you should get those wards down.’ 

A sneer tugged at her lip, and she reached for the handle to the vault. ‘They’re _down_ ,’ she said, and yanked the handle down, yanked the door swinging open. 

And inside, along with several small lockboxes of valuables, briefcases of papers, and bulging coin-purses, sat the Chalice of Emrys. 

Then the alarm went off.

* * 

The screaming was in French, but Albus didn’t need to know the language to understand the tone of frantic terror. He skidded to a halt by the door, then looked up and down the corridor. A pair of security guards were back the way he’d come, pausing at the intersection, and couldn’t see him through his Cloak of Invisibility. They might, though, spot him kicking the door open. 

Then the frantic screaming went up a pitch, and he didn’t care. 

A blasting charm blew the lock free of the door, and Albus pulled off his cloak as he burst in, wand flashing around what had once been an office but was now stripped to essentials, a desk and a chair, no decoration, no equipment, no wizard stood there looking indignant or violent at his interruption. 

Just a bloodied and beaten woman lying in a bundle on the floor, tear-stained and wide-eyed. Her clothes were ragged, her dark hair a tangled mess, and the bruises and cuts across her face livid. She jolted away as he burst in, back going to the desk, but it was obvious he wasn’t security. A throaty babble of French came from her as she tried to clamber to her feet. 

‘It’s okay! It’s okay,’ said Albus, hurrying to her side and helping her up with his free hand. She might not understand him, but he tried to make the tone of his voice plain enough. ‘You’re safe. What happened to you? I’m getting you out of here.’ 

He hadn’t expected a reply, but her expression relaxed as he spoke, and when she answered it was in English that only held a trace accent. ‘I - where are we? I heard the shouting, I thought someone might hear me, help me…’ 

‘We’re in Monte Carlo. Rabbit’s Foot Casino. Hold still a moment…’ They might not have much time, but she was still a state, and Albus ran his wand over her, summoning from his memory the healing charms he’d never had to use in earnest before now. ‘Who are you?’ 

‘Lisa. Lisa Delacroix - I’m - I was an assistant to Professor Dresdner, he -’ 

‘Was abducted. In Copenhagen. With you.’ Realisation jolted through Albus, but he kept his focus on the spells. The bruising across her cheek faded, though the encrusted blood would, of course, not diminish, staining the dark skin. It looked like these weren’t the only injuries she’d ever had, he thought as he spotted a vicious old scar that puckered the flesh along the left side of her jaw. Her breathing was steadying as he did his work, her composure returning. 

‘Thane,’ she said, voice more level. ‘Prometheus Thane and his people, they killed the Professor, they brought me here -’ 

‘They did this to you.’ Albus’ gut was churning at the prospects before him, and he failed at keeping a growl from his voice. He finished his spells and lowered his wand, gaze locking on hers, eyes wide and dark. 

‘Yes,’ she said - then her hand was at his wrist, yanking his wand from his grasp before he knew what was happening and lashing out with a spell - but it rocketed _past_ him, the Stun cast wordlessly and powerfully, and as Albus wheeled around he saw a security guard in the doorway drop like a stone. 

She let out a long, shaking breath, before she extended his wand back to him. ‘Sorry.’ 

‘Um.’ He took it back. ‘Don’t be sorry. _What_ did you assist the Professor with?’ 

‘Security.’ Guilt tugged at her expression. ‘Thane had a _lot_ of men.’ 

‘Yeah.’ He moved to the door, casting a glance discreetly to the corridor as he dragged the prone security guard fully inside, and was relieved to see nobody else in sight. He grabbed the man’s wand and tossed it to her. ‘We’re getting out of here. Can you walk?’ 

‘I think so. How did you even get _in_?’ She caught the wand. ‘Why are you here? Who even _are_ you?’ 

‘Oh.’ He straightened. ‘Albus Potter. We’re here to steal the Chalice of Emrys and a _lot_ of money off Prometheus Thane. As for how I got in…’ He flipped his left wrist out to let the Invisibility Cloak flap across his arm. ‘Though it can’t both cover us as we move, not easily, not reliably. I think we’re doing this the old-fashioned way.’ 

She raised an eyebrow. ‘There’s an old-fashioned way of breaking out of a casino?’ 

‘There’s this tradition in my family,’ he said, heading for the door. ‘We break into places really discreetly, but we can never _leave_ discreetly.’ 

‘Family. Oh - Potter. That British guy?’ 

A surge of satisfaction ran through Albus as he stepped into the corridor. Never before in his life had he told someone his name without receiving a wide-eyed look of astonishment. Of course the French would care so much less about his father. 

‘Yeah,’ Albus said, happy despite the fact he was set to break explosively out of the Rabbit’s Foot Casino. ‘That British guy.’ 


	20. Showdown

Patrons were being asked to hit the deck, security were swarming around the main floor of the casino, and everything was being thoroughly shut down. So long as this meant that she and the others could get out, Selena was inclined to consider this a job well done. 

Of course, if they couldn’t get out then she’d just gone and trapped them all in a building bristling with frantic, desperate security procedures. 

From the snippets of conversation she picked up from the security guards who weren’t yet paranoid enough to pay a colleague they didn’t recognise any mind - though she knew this wouldn’t last forever - they still hadn’t untangled the mess of the security wards which Albus had made. That was good; it meant the front doors wouldn’t be as secure as they thought, it meant the vaults would still be accessible, and it meant that maybe Rose and Scorpius could leave the way they came. 

The most important thing Albus had drilled into them before they’d left was that they couldn’t worry about each other, because they couldn’t affect each other. Their only option was to carry on with their work and trust the other teams to get their jobs done. 

That was easy enough for Albus to say, in her opinion. Because he didn’t have a rendezvous with any other team after the split in Maisson’s office. While she had to prowl the casino floor and couldn’t leave until she had Matt. Matt, who was supposed to be breaking into the mid-level vault and, if not stealing the Chalice itself, then stealing all of the money from the auction. 

She let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding when she saw a flash of movement from one of the stairways. Her eyes had been on the route they’d taken up, but Matt stumbled through the door on the other side of the casino floor, and she supposed this made sense. They would be closer to the vault, in most likelihood, and as the security guards swivelled around to face him, she waved an imperious hand at them and stalked to his side. 

‘I’ll take him to Madam Paquet,’ she told them, and summoned every inch of practice she had at acting superior from five years of being top of the food chain in Slytherin House. 

Matt looked shaken when she got to him, which was just as well as he was supposed to be in trouble with casino security. She grabbed his elbow. ‘I got it all,’ he muttered, voice unsteady. ‘Not the Chalice, I mean, but the money -’ 

‘Shut up and hand it over,’ she hissed. ‘And your wand. You’re not supposed to have anything magic on you.’ 

She had to turn her body to block the coin-purse, the wand, and then that ridiculous sword from view as he slipped them into her hands, and they went inside her uniform, far from sight. ‘Now look like you’re about to crap yourself as I drag you up before Paquet.’ 

‘Oh. Shouldn’t be hard.’ He still looked green. 

She grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him through the thronging masses of security, who were still convinced there was a threat to the underground vault rather than the vaults on the upper levels, and the patrons who kept their heads down and didn’t move. Paquet was a sea of calm in the middle of the chaos, emanating waves of control and confidence, and Selena felt her gut loosen a little at this. So long as Paquet seemed in control, they could stay in control. 

‘Madam, I have this man,’ she said as she approached. ‘He was suspected in some minor cheating misdemeanour before all this started - shall I just remove him from the premises? I’ve searched him and he’s got nothing on him. I think he’s just a troublemaker we don’t want to waste time keeping an eye on.’ 

Paquet turned, looked her up and down with a flicker of uncertainty that had Selena’s back straighten, before her eyes landed on Matt. ‘What, exactly, did he do?’ 

_Shit. She_ _’s not going for it._ Selena drew a deep breath. ‘He had some cards hidden up his sleeve and was caught by the others. It was a low-stakes game, they’ve been recompensed for the inconvenience. He _was_ just going to be removed and punished before all of this started. He can’t start any more trouble, I don’t think - it’s checkmate. I can take him out the back exit.’ 

Words could not quantify her relief as she saw something else flash in Paquet’s eyes at her words, and the security chief’s voice took on a dull, detached tone. ‘Yes,’ she said, all suspicion and uncertainty faded in a moment. ‘You should do that.’ 

‘Yes, ma’am.’ Selena gave what she thought was a professional smile, nodded to the other security guards who’d been in earshot, and dragged Matt, who didn’t even pretend to protest and was easily steered around, towards the casino’s rear door. 

‘You know,’ he mumbled once they were away from the main throng of people, ‘that was a really clumsy use of the word “checkmate”.’ 

She scowled. ‘Maybe Rose could pick a more _discreet_ trigger-phrase, then. It worked, didn’t it?’ Deep down, she hadn’t been sure it would. Rose had assured them that if anyone used the word around Paquet, then it would induce a highly-suggestive state which would let them get away, maybe, with one request so long as it wasn’t outrageous. It wasn’t enough to have the security chief let them dance out the front door with the Chalice of Emrys on their heads. It _was_ , as witnessed, enough to make her give up being suspicious and let a routine procedure carry on its way. 

‘She didn’t want something someone might say by accident - but it doesn’t matter,’ said Matt as Selena reached the back door and shoved it open. The charms would scan them both, still, and find nothing on Matt, and find a few minor magic items on Selena - but right then she was in a security guard’s uniform, and if nobody had realised by now that she wasn’t security, they wouldn’t realise this until they were long, long gone. 

‘No,’ Selena agreed, and bursting into the night air of the back alleyway in Monte Carlo was like surging to the surface after being submerged in water for long minutes, like freedom was something she could breathe. ‘It doesn’t matter. Let’s get the hell out of here.’ 

They didn’t at first, because the rear door was still swinging in the breeze, because they were still in eye-shot of the people inside the Rabbit’s Foot. But once they were further into the alley, once the door had swung shut, once nobody could see them, Selena palmed Matt his wand. And then they ran.

* * 

‘I don’t want to panic you,’ shouted Scorpius as a Stun flew inches past his nose, ‘but I think they’ve spotted us!’ 

‘Yes! _Thank_ you, Malfoy, for that scintillating tactical analysis!’ Rose had her back to the wall, out of sight of the duo of security guards who’d come thundering to the vault within perilously short seconds of the alarm going off. They were still in the small chamber before the vault door, the walls their only protection, and the only way out was past security. ‘Give me the Chalice!’ 

Scorpius tossed it over. ‘Why? What’s it going to _do_?’ 

‘I want to make sure it’s real. Keep them pinned down!’ She caught it then slid to the floor, presenting a smaller profile, as she ran her wand across the simple metal cup. It was silver, not gold like he’d expected - not plain but hardly ornate, devoid of gemstones. The rim bore intricate markings and carvings which he couldn’t begin to understand, and he had no idea if they gave the chalice power, bore some secret meaning, or were just for decoration. 

That was the problem of someone smarter than him. Someone who cared more than him. Someone who wasn’t being shot at like him. 

‘Yes. Because _we_ have _them_ pinned down,’ Scorpius drawled. ‘We don’t want to linger here, or they’ll have backup soon enough.’ But he still obliged by throwing his wand arm around the corner to let off several short, sharp Stuns - not enough to punch through a professional’s shield, but enough, he hoped, to make them be cautious before they opened fire. 

‘I know,’ she said. ‘But if we’ve got the real thing, then we _have_ to get out of here. If this isn’t it, if it’s a dud, or just a completely different damned chalice, then that means Matt got it. Which means we need to keep security distracted so he can escape.’ 

_Risking my neck to save Matt Doyle. Again. Fuck my life._ His next Stun, fuelled by frustration, clipped the shoulder of one of the security guards, and he was rewarded by the sight of the man collapsing. ‘Got one!’ 

‘Great! And we can go - this matches the magical signature from de Sablé’s tomb.’ Rose got to her feet and tucked the Chalice under the strap of her bag, the weight pinning it against her. 

‘Put it _in_ the bag,’ he hissed. 

‘It’s an ancient magical artifact, it might _do_ things to my books!’ 

‘To your -’ 

‘There’s only one of them.’ Rose’s eyes blazed as she got to her feet. ‘So let’s charge him. I Shield, you Stun.’ 

_Your Stuns are better than mine_ , he wanted to say, though there was no time to argue and she was already moving into the open. He complied, shoulder to shoulder with her, and kept his wand trained on the narrow profile that was the remaining security guard as they hurtled down the corridor. Seeing them exposed like that, the guard had no choice but to stick his head out further and throw a vicious array of spells, and the air between them sparked as each and every one splashed off the defences Rose had raised. 

_Your Shields are better than mine, too,_ Scorpius had to concede - and concentrated all of his power for one single, strong Stun that thudded into the guard’s gut and sent him flying to the floor, as motionless as his compatriot. 

‘Nice shooting,’ said Rose, not breaking stride. ‘Don’t stop.’ 

‘Wasn’t planning on it!’ he said as they kept running down the corridor, past the two incapacitated security guards, around the corner and back the way they’d come. ‘Only one problem! I bet that Floo room’s going to be locked down by now, if the alarm’s been raised properly and security are going nuts.’ 

‘That’s true.’ She pulled him to a halt at the next intersection of corridors, both of them pressing against the wall to present smaller profiles. ‘Then again, I didn’t really fancy flying through that chimney again. So let’s call that a perk of being possibly trapped.’ 

‘Did you take “look on the bright side” lessons from Albus when I wasn’t paying attention?’ 

‘Stay quiet and listen, I’m trying to think of another way out,’ she hissed. 

Then there were thudding footsteps from their right, the way they’d originally come, the way back to the Floo and the part of the casino they were familiar with, and Scorpius risked the briefest glance around that corner. ‘I’m going to go with, “not that way”. Five security.’ 

‘ _Five?_ _’_   
  
‘Yeah.’ He nodded at the corridor ahead of them. ‘Best we split up. You take the Chalice and go that way. I’ll go left and try to draw them off. Okay?’ Without waiting, he went to bolt - 

And gurgled as her hand grabbed his collar, yanking him back behind the corner. ‘That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard. Don’t you _dare_ try to do something stupid and heroic. We can shake five security guards ourselves.’ 

‘Can we?’ Scorpius wheeled to face her, and found her eyes blazing with as much fervour as he felt. ‘Because the way I see it, you have the Chalice and the smarts, and I can divert them long enough for you to get away. Like you said, that’s the priority.’ 

Her eyes narrowed. ‘I will Stun and Levitate you out of here before I let you do that. Besides. They’re getting closer, and we don’t have _time_ to argue about this. There’s another stairwell ahead. Let’s _go_.’ 

She was pushing him out into the open, then, and he didn’t have a choice but to comply because she was throwing up a Shield, too. Spells splashed across her barrier as they crossed in front of the approaching security team, and so instead of splitting up, they just ran. Ran flat down the corridor, and when the security rounded the corner behind them they both had to throw Shields in their wake, no cover available but the protection they could summon for themselves. 

‘Stairwell!’ Rose gasped as they rounded another corner and saw a door ahead. ‘We can lose them!’ 

‘Great!’ said Scorpius, putting on another burst of speed, throwing his shoulder against the door for them to burst into the stairwell - a huge column that ran along the front of the building and, even better, with walls made of glass so they could see the dizzying heights of glimmering Monte Carlo on three sides. 

And with thumping footsteps above and below as more of the Rabbit’s Foot’s guards hurried to secure the one of the most sensitive locations on site. Like the vault they’d just broken into, and the guest rooms that were on the floor they’d just run from. There wasn’t an army of security at the Rabbit’s Foot - but there were enough to contend with two young wizards, and they had every reason to group up in this location. 

‘Oh, _shit_ ,’ hissed Rose, planting her hands on the railing and looking up and down. ‘They’re coming this way.’ 

Scorpius glanced around, hearing the thumping footsteps. For now, the security guards above and below had no idea they were there - but soon they would, and there was still the team who’d been chasing them. They couldn’t go back. They couldn’t go up. They couldn’t go down. 

Then the door behind them exploded in a shower of magical sparks and splinters, and he grabbed Rose to yank her out of the way of the onslaught of magic from their hunters. He’d hoped the closed door would give them precious seconds to think, to be out of sight - and obviously this hope had been anticipated, the barrage of magic from the five security guards reducing it to nothing but wooden chunks. 

A bolt of magic flew through the air just inches from Rose as he dragged her away, and shattered the opposite window in the stairwell. This high up, the wind rushed and roared in to fill their ears, bringing only the edge of the bustling night-life of Monte Carlo below, with its people and its traffic and its mundane worries which were so far away from a bottleneck of death like they were trapped in. 

Scorpius’ eyes widened. ‘Give me the broom!’ he bellowed over the thudding footsteps and shouts from the approaching security guards, _all_ of whom knew now, from the explosion, to converge here. 

Rose nodded and within seconds of reaching into her bag, she was pulling out the long handle of the broomstick, his prized possession, their best and only ticket out of here - 

Until a bolt of magic flew from the stairwell above as one of the approaching teams got closer, and on instinct Rose put the first thing to hand between her and the spell which would instantly incapacitate her. There was a splintering of wood, a spark of magic, and even as Scorpius threw an array of spells upwards, harmless illusions all, but looking impressive enough to make them keep their heads down until they figured it out, his heart sank. He knew what had happened. 

‘Oh, _shit_ ,’ Rose breathed as she found herself holding _almost_ all of a broom. The top six inches had been sheared clean off, and the stump was sparking with uncontained, uncontrolled magic, spitting and fizzing. 

‘Give it here! We’ve got to go!’ 

‘Are you _crazy_? Is that thing even going to fly?’ 

‘No idea!’ But he shoved his wand in his belt anyway, one hand grabbing the sputtering and sparking broom, the other wrapping firmly around her waist. ‘Let’s find out!’ 

Spells flew down at them from the security guards descending on their location, guards who within heartbeats would reach them and then there’d be no cover - they’d be surrounded, trapped, captured, and then they and the Chalice would be in the hands of Prometheus Thane and his allies. So Rose had no choice but to cling on as Scorpius threw them forwards, down half a flight of stairs before lunging out into the open. 

Onto the sputtering, sparking, unreliable Nimbus Starfall, and into the night skies of Monte Carlo twenty storeys above the ground.

* * 

‘I’m hoping,’ said Albus as they thudded down the stairs towards the ground floor, ‘that we can join the crowds and then disappear. Literally.’ His cloak was tucked into his belt, his right hand clutched his wand, and his left still had a firm grip on Lisa’s arm. She seemed content to be led, only mostly steady on her feet and sometimes leaning on him - though he noted how she held her stolen wand with a light but confident grip, noted how she watched the doors they passed with a practised, assessing air. 

This was for the best. Breaking out on his own would be hard enough. Two of them breaking out sounded horrendous if he was with someone who didn’t know how to fight. 

‘I’m amazed you broke past the security,’ she said. ‘It’s serious around here -’ 

‘I’ll tell you the whole story later. I promise.’ They reached the foot of the stairs, stopped at the door to the main casino floor, and his eyes flew over her. ‘Are you okay? This could get intense. You took - they did - you’ve taken quite a hammering.’ His voice faltered as he tried to think, and yet not think, about the injuries he’d sensed on her when he’d done his healing spells. Broken bones, bruises and batterings, injuries which could not have been inflicted for any purpose _but_ to cause pain, and too recent to have been part of her abduction. 

His gut clenched. They’d hurt her just to hurt her. 

She met his gaze, something flickering in her eyes he couldn’t quite place. Bewilderment? ‘I won’t slow you down.’ 

‘That’s not what I’m asking.’ Albus drew a ragged breath. ‘I mean, it _is_ , but not like that. Maybe you should take the Cloak, get out of here -’ 

_Definitely_ bewilderment in her eyes. ‘And you’ll, what? Pray your way out of here?’ 

‘It’s not my _best_ plan ever.’ 

She twisted her arm in his grip to lay her hand on his forearm, the bewilderment still there. ‘We can do this.’ 

‘Right.’ He gave her a small, reassured grin, opened the door, pulled them both into the throng of panicked people on the main floor of the casino - 

\- and found them no more than twenty feet away from a group of four wizards, wands in hand despite their lack of security uniforms, two of whom he recognised. Only one of these had he actually met in the flesh. He’d broken his arm, in fact. 

That was how he knew Elijah Downing by sight. He didn’t need to have met Prometheus Thane to recognise him. 

The two groups gawped at each other, and for a heartbeat Albus prayed they’d be overlooked. He wasn’t sure why. Downing would recognise him for sure. As Harry Potter’s son, he’d almost certainly be recognised by Thane, seeing as the man had doubtless done his research during the Phlegethon crisis at Hogwarts. And besides, he had Lisa right next to him, the woman they’d captured, whose employer they’d murdered, the prisoner they’d _brutalised_ \- 

Albus’ fingers flexed around his wand, and he let go of Lisa’s arm. ‘ _Run_.’ 

‘Damn it - get them!’ That was the shout from Thane as they turned and bolted into the crowd. The patrons of the Rabbit’s Foot had all been told to stay still, to not move, to let security do their work in making sure everything was under control as the alarm continued to blare around them, and security were near the other stairwell, near the passage down towards the vaults. So they kept their heads down as they hurtled past the people sat or crouching, the gathering of patrons so thick that at least no spells flew in their wake. 

It would probably end badly, even for Prometheus Thane, if he shot a rich and influential guest of the Rabbit’s Foot. 

‘Those doors are going to be locked,’ Lisa blurted out as they sprinted for the front entrance, Thane, Downing, and the others in their wake. ‘I can fix that! Shield me!’ 

‘They’re not doing anything -’ _Then do something to them_. Albus’ wand whipped behind him to produce a gust of strong wind that thudded into patrons, the tables, into Thane and his brutes and sent them staggering. _He_ had no reason to not batter and bruise a rich and influential guest of the Rabbit’s Foot. They’d live. 

If he didn’t get out of here, he might not. 

There were shouts of surprise and outrage from patrons, grunts of aggravation and pain from Thane’s men, and then they were at the doors. He had no choice but to put his shoulder to them, hope the hinges or lock or glass would give way as whatever unlocking magic Lisa had done fizzled from her wand-tip - and they did, then they were out in the open, staggering into the courtyard outside, stumbling down the long steps which led into the mass of night-time Monte Carlo. 

For the moment they were still in the warded section hidden from all sight against Muggles, empty as security had forced people to move on or be locked inside, exposed as they ran across the paving slabs and as Thane and his trio burst out the doors in their wake. ‘Get in cover! Quick!’ Albus yelled, spells flying at them - though at this distance they could weave out of the way. Stone flew up from the paving slabs as spells thudded into the space they’d been in heartbeats before. He darted sideways, grabbing her, bundling her behind the nearest tall column of grandiose, melodramatic magical architecture, out of sight for a heartbeat - 

\- then in that heartbeat they were shrouded by the Invisibility Cloak, emerging out the other side unseen. No longer did they worry about running into anyone, about the sound of footsteps, about closed doors and so, with the frantic shouts of Thane and his men behind them, they disappeared. 

Gone from the scene just as two figures streaked through the night-sky above, down at the open plaza of the front entrance.

* * 

‘Hold on!’ Scorpius bellowed needlessly as he tried to yank the nose of the broom up. It was flying. Sort of. 

In truth, this was more of a controlled crash, the magic dissipating from the broom with each second that passed. If he fought with every inch of strength and skill he could turn their descent into a bobbing, weaving, whirling plummet, instead of a dead drop - but the ground was still coming up fast, far, far too fast. 

And the plaza below, the main square between the front doors of the Rabbit’s Foot and the edge of the boundaries of the anti-Muggle wardings, was not empty. A handful of people stood out in the open, scattered and looking around wildly, and on instinct Scorpius raised his voice in warning. ‘Look out below!’ 

He didn’t catch more than a flash of surprised voices and shocked expressions as people looked up, then the broom came down. Yanking the nose up at the last minute meant they came it at an angle. Light flashed from over his shoulder as Rose threw out a levitation charm, hardly powerful enough to stop their descent, but the microns by which it would slow them could still make the difference between walking away from a crash, and broken legs. 

Then they hit. Instincts flashed up, instincts of how to land - feet first, knees bent, throwing himself sideways to let the shock run sequentially up the side of his body. It was still a thump into hard pavings enough to knock the air out of him, smashing his hip against the ground hard, then his back - then Rose was on top of him and they were tumbling over and over, the broom finally giving up on whatever spark of magic it had left. 

He came to a halt with a low groan. The stars above were spinning, his entire body hurt, and the wrecked broom had been abandoned some long feet behind. There was a rushing noise in his ears, and for a moment this worried him until he realised it was the thrumming traffic of Monte Carlo beyond the warding barriers. 

Then Rose was over him, grabbing him by the shoulders. ‘We gotta go - come _on_ , Scorpius!’ 

He grasped her arm, letting her haul him upright, dizzy and pained and his bad leg throbbing. ‘What the -’ 

She yanked him into a stumbling run in the direction of the traffic. ‘Thane.’ 

The world slowed in its spinning enough for him to take stock of the situation. Three men hurtling along in their wake, wands drawn, running down the steps and across the square after them. Rose, bedraggled and bruised but still pulling him forwards. Ahead, the streets of Monte Carlo, the traffic rushing and roaring by, the dozens and scores of Muggles on the pavements beyond spending their evening in enthused enjoyment, oblivious to the danger so close. 

For the moment. 

His leg still throbbed, and Scorpius swore under his breath. ‘Rose, I’m not going to outrun them like this,’ he hissed. ‘Take the Chalice and go.’ 

‘We’ve covered this. My answer’s still “no”. We only have to get a little further and I will _drag you_ if I have to -’ 

‘A little further ‘til what? Until we’ve moved ten metres more before they catch us?’ 

‘Ten metres,’ Rose muttered, ‘might make all the difference.’ 

Passing across the threshold of the wards was like charging from an empty hall into a concert chamber. Although from inside they could see the normal night of Monte Carlo, it was completely different to be stood in the middle of it. The nature of the magic meant that although they literally appeared in thin air, to anyone around them it was like they’d naturally joined a crowd, turned a corner and were then part of the humming masses walking the streets of an evening. 

They got a _little_ more attention when Rose dragged them running across the road to the cacophony of screeching brakes and honking car horns and the shouts from drivers and passers-by, and Scorpius clutched at her arm. ‘Are you _trying_ to get us killed?’ he hissed as they staggered. 

‘Trying to get us _noticed_ ,’ she said. And when they stumbled onto the pavement, she ran almost flat into Elijah Downing. 

The squat, heavy man took a step back, wand secreted up his sleeve but visible to those who knew to look for it, and he jerked his arm to the side of the pavement, where the low wall separated them from the tumbling of the city down to the harbour. The sun had set long ago, and on either side were glittering lights filling the view - to the north, the shining of Monte Carlo, to the south, the stars gleaming above. 

‘Hold it right there. And don’t do anything funny. You’re surrounded,’ Downing growled, just as more horns honked and the thudding of footsteps heralded the arrival of Prometheus Thane and two more of his men. 

Thane looked apoplectic as he gestured for his people to flank them, creating a small, dense circle of danger and death in the middle of the Monte Carlo night-life. But for now it was so busy that nobody stopped to pay attention to a tiny crowd of people on the roadside. ‘A pleasure to meet you both again,’ he sneered. ‘Now, I trust you’ll be returning what’s mine?’ 

Rose looked down at where the Chalice was still tucked against her, and tugged it free of the strap. ‘What, this? You stole it first; it’s not really yours to take back.’ 

‘I think its original owners are long lost to the mists of time,’ said Thane in a flat voice, hand extended. 

‘So shall we say possession is nine-tenths of the law?’ Rose cocked her head, her voice light, almost playful. Scorpius gritted his teeth, felt sick, and said nothing. 

‘I think the person with the most wands is going to be the law around here, Miss Weasley. You’ve had an impressive success tonight. Go home and hold your heads high for achieving what nobody in the _world_ ever has by breaking into the Rabbit’s Foot. But it ends here.’ 

Rose looked at Scorpius, then back at Thane, then shrugged. ‘Or what?’ 

Thane worked his jaw for a moment. ‘Or - do you not grasp how much at our mercy you -’ 

‘ _Are_ we at your mercy? What do you intend to do? We’re hardly going to come quietly. So where does that leave you? Spells and sparks and a whole light-show to take us down, _in public_ , in front of Muggles?’ 

Thane’s eyes narrowed. ‘You think I care about the Statute?’ 

‘I think you care about being hidden - and breaking the Statute is going to make it _impossible_ for your protectors in the Convocation to refuse to come after you. Within _hours_ , Thane, the might of the wizarding world will land on your head, on Maisson’s head, on this whole operation. Even if you slink away, it will end _very_ poorly for your allies.’ 

‘Maybe. But for the Chalice?’ He leaned forward half an inch, his cold blue eyes locked on Rose’s determined brown. ‘That is absolutely worth it. For the Chalice, I will happily murder you two messily and magically in front of a thousand Muggles, and walk away with no greater concern than _cleaning my boots_.’ 

‘But if you don’t get the Chalice, it’s really not worth it.’ Rose turned the Chalice in her hand, the tip of her wand tapping on the metal. ‘So, I suppose, if I were to do _this_ _…_ ’ Magic sparked at her wand-tip and Scorpius’ jaw dropped with horror as he saw the surface blacken, char - then begin to crumble to nothing more than dust in her hands, a collapse that started at the rim before working its way across the entire chalice. 

Scorpius started. ‘Rose, what the _hell_ -’ 

‘It’s a fake,’ she said, chin jerking up half an inch. She did not take her eyes off Thane. ‘It has the same magical signature as I felt in Paris, but it’s been degrading. Even over the ten minutes it’s been in my hands, it’s been degrading - an artifact thousands of years old would constantly emanate that kind of magic. This isn’t the real thing, Thane.’ 

His eyes had widened at the Chalice’s crumbling, shock battling with outrage. ‘ _Guerrier_.’ 

‘I bet he never had it, either. It’s a good fake. But you didn’t need to sit around in Paris and study its magical signature, because you had other leads. Unlike me. You really should have experts take a look at these things.’ She shook her hand, the dark dust of the fake Chalice fluttering from her fingertips. 

Thane’s lips thinned, a grimace of a smile. ‘Very good, Miss Weasley,’ he said, though his voice was low, tense and angry. ‘Top of the class.’ 

‘Oh, I was never top of the class.’ Rose’s smile in response was bitter, but more sincere. ‘But I suppose you have no reason, now, to kill us messily and magically. We’ve taken nothing of yours. All you’ll do is bring down international hell on Maisson’s head. And the Council of Thorns needs him, doesn’t he?’ 

Thane straightened, looked at the Muggles all around them, the humming nightlife of Monte Carlo who carried on with their evening, the people who were paying them no mind at that moment but would doubtless descend into horror and screaming if untold violence broke out. Then his eyes locked on Scorpius. ‘I see you weren’t the witty one tonight, Mister Malfoy.’ 

‘I leave the _really_ clever stuff to her.’ His voice was rather numb, bewildered. 

‘Evidently.’ Thane’s gaze shifted to Rose. ‘This isn’t over. There are more trails. You’ve followed me this far; I wager you’ll continue even further.’ 

‘You’re half-right. I don’t intend to _follow_ you, Thane. I intend to _beat_ you.’ 

‘I could kill you now, then. Save myself the trouble in the future.’ 

Scorpius drew a sharp breath. ‘You’d like to think wouldn’t do that even if we weren’t surrounded by Muggles. You think you’re not a wanton killer, don’t you, Thane?’ 

His expression flickered. ‘You finally found it in you to defy me?’ 

‘It finally mattered. Except, you’re fucking delusional. You didn’t kill me when you had the chance - do you think that makes you better than a common thug?’ Scorpius found his shoulders squaring, found the strength of anger flowing into his voice. ‘You think of yourself as better than that. Not a petty killer. For whatever reason, you _gave_ me the Stone. You say Phlegethon wasn’t meant to get that horrific, you blame _Lockett_ for it killing Tim Warwick - _fuck_ you. 

‘You killed Tim Warwick. You killed Methuselah Jones. You are no better than a thug down a dark alleyway, no more than a murderous piece of shit, and whatever lofty code of honour you like to pretend you have is a fucking _joke_ -’ 

Thane only took a step forward, only twitched his right hand a half-inch, then Scorpius was doubling over in pain, the blow to his gut as solid as if he’d been punched by Albus himself. When Thane spoke his voice was a low, venomous hiss. ‘It is at present not worth the effort to kill you, Mister Malfoy. If you keep this up, I may forget all these sensible reasons and become the brutal murderer you profess me to be.’ 

Rose moved sideways, planting herself between the two men, now only inches away from Thane. ‘But you won’t. It’s over. Neither one of us has what we want. You can walk away.’ She spoke softly, now, the challenge gone, her words on the edge of pleading - but nevertheless a firm reminder. 

Thane watched her for a moment, moved his wand-arm - then straightened and took a step back. ‘We shall meet again, I don’t doubt. Do not presume it will go so well as this.’ 

Then he gestured to his followers, paced further away, moved into the crowd - and like that he was gone, disappeared into the night-life of Monte Carlo, leaving them bedraggled and bruised and battered. Not beaten, Scorpius told himself as colour returned to his vision and his breathing came more easily when the pain faded. 

But it wasn’t exactly a victory, either. 


	21. Come Fly With Me

The rendezvous was at the foot of the Rock of Monaco, on a paved path that ran with the cliff towering on one side, the ocean tumbling away at the other. This close to midnight it was pitch black and abandoned, and a few makeshift anti-Muggle charms had been set up to ensure nobody decided to take a late-night wander on the water-front. 

Alfonse Guerrier had six men with him, all wearing black robes, all holding their wands without restraint or concern. He had no reason to pretend he didn’t have the muscle on his side, and after the way their initial meeting had gone the week before, Matt had no reason to doubt that he would wield that muscle if he had to. 

He and Selena were the first there, greeted by Guerrier in a calm and polite manner, but nothing had been exchanged but these pleasantries. That was ten minutes ago, and there was no sign of the others. 

‘Where _are_ they?’ Selena hissed, still in her fake uniform of a member of the Rabbit’s Foot’s security detail, pacing across the path and glaring back up at the shining lights of Monte Carlo. 

‘It’s not been long,’ said Matt, wishing he believed his own words. ‘They’ll be here.’ 

‘They’re late,’ she said, ‘and security was really heating up in there.’ 

‘Furthermore,’ said Guerrier, still standing with his men flanking him, ‘we have no way of knowing if they have been captured. How long do you intend to wait?’ 

Matt scowled. ‘They’ll be here,’ he repeated. 

‘I take it you do not have the Chalice.’ 

‘I wouldn’t tell you if I did. You’re handing that portkey over to all of us, or you’re not handing it over at all. We’re not leaving without them. This deal doesn’t go down unless they’re all here.’ 

Guerrier’s expression tightened. ‘This deal goes down as I _say_ it goes down, Mister Doyle. I will wait for the others if it is more likely that they have succeeded where you failed. But I will not linger here all night so Maisson can get the whole of his goon squad together to have me surrounded. He will suspect soon enough that I played a part in this. I do not need to be caught red-handed. Neither of us are men who will bother with the niceties of law enforcement and, simply, he has more muscle than I do. Our little peace accord has been _thoroughly_ broken and he will not care that his friends broke it first.’ 

‘You get nothing by activating the portkey now and leaving the others behind,’ said Matt. 

‘Technically I get nothing _anyway_ , Mister Doyle. I am in this for satisfaction and vengeance. If your fellows have failed and gotten themselves captured, then all I have gained is the ire of the Rabbit’s Foot Casino, and I would much rather be on my way as soon as possible.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘Though it is evident you do _not_ have the Chalice, from your manner. The proceeds of the auction, though?’ 

‘The vault was empty. It must have not been deposited there yet.’ 

‘For a man who has played so much poker over the last week, Mister Doyle, I expected you to be a better liar.’ 

Matt flinched. ‘They’ll be here.’ 

‘Someone’s coming!’ That was Selena, whose gaze had been locked on the path throughout the interchange. 

‘It’s me!’ called out a voice from the gloom, and Matt narrowed his eyes at the twin silhouettes coming towards the light of their wands. He recognised Albus’ voice, and the second person, the one he was helping walk, was a woman - so what had happened to Scorpius, if he and Rose had met up? Despite himself, something cold twisted in Matt’s gut. 

_No, don_ _’t do that to her, don’t make her suffer through -_   
  
Then Albus entered the ring of light, and Matt let out the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding when he saw the woman was not Rose, but a woman he’d never seen before in his life - tall, slender, dark-haired, with a sharpness to her gaze - and swelling and bruising about her face which looked consistent with a beating. 

Guerrier’s men all lifted their wands, and the man himself tensed. ‘Who is this?’ 

Albus lifted a hand, and the woman lifted both, eyes widening. ‘She’s with me. It’s fine.’ 

‘It is _not_ fine, I am not involving unknown elements who -’ 

And then Matt’s heart lunged into his throat as Albus - big, burly Albus, who was only not intimidating because he was so damned _nice_ \- let go of the woman and crossed the space to plant himself in front of Guerrier, looming over him, uncaring of the wands levelled right at his head. ‘She was a prisoner of Prometheus Thane’s, captured and forced to watch her employer murdered, brutalised for no reason but their satisfaction and kept captive for the past fortnight.’ A muscle twitched in the corner of his jaw, and cool green eyes were locked on pitiless brown. ‘She’s with me. It’s fine.’ 

Guerrier had to tilt his head upwards to watch Albus, and a long moment passed, his men still with their wands trained on the broad youth. The only noise Matt could hear through the silence was his heart thudding in his chest, and this didn’t diminish when Guerrier lifted a hand and his men stepped away, lowering their wands. ‘Very well. I hope you will not make a habit of this, Mister Potter. I don’t want our deal changing more than it has to.’ 

‘This change had to happen,’ said Albus - but then he was nice, polite, kind Albus again, stepping back with a courteous incline of the head. ‘I apologise if this in an inconvenience.’ 

_No, you don_ _’t_ , thought Matt, but now this was over he had other problems, gaze locking on the path back to Monte Carlo. ‘Rose, Scorpius - where are they?’ 

He shook his head. ‘I didn’t see them.’ 

Matt gave a curt nod as he pulled out his pocket watch. ‘Five more minutes, then,’ he said, voice clipped, ‘and we go back to get them.’ 

Guerrier’s eyes narrowed. ‘If they are not here, then they will have been captured and, if not killed, then put under the most intense security. I am not waiting around for you to expose yourselves, and me, more than is necessary. You can go back and then even if you get out, you will _not_ have my portkey to take you away.’ 

‘So be it,’ said Matt. ‘We’ve got ways of -’ 

‘We’re not doing anything just yet,’ said Albus. ‘They’ve still got time.’ 

‘I don’t get how you can be so calm when -’ 

‘Because I trust them, Matt. You should, too.’ 

Another tense silence, and it was Selena who broke this one, gliding to Albus’ side and looking at the woman he’d rescued with a smile. ‘I think Al was terribly remiss and didn’t introduce you, dear.’ 

‘Delacroix,’ came the automatic response, her voice throat, accent light. Then, ‘Lisa Delacroix. I am - was - Professor Dresdner’s assistant.’ 

Selena winced at this, and moved around to her - only for Lisa to flinch back, and Selena knew better than to push such a shy away from physical contact. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said instead. ‘We’ll get you out of here soon, then all of this can be over.’ 

_Soon_. Matt glowered at the path, gut churning. ‘Three minutes,’ he muttered. ‘And even if _you_ _’re_ not going, _I_ _’m_ going -’ 

‘We act as one, Matt,’ said Albus, voice still calm. ‘When we have to. Give them a -’ 

‘Movement.’ That was one of Guerrier’s men, and Matt cursed himself for letting Albus distract him - but then two more shapes were padding out of the darkness, the tall shape of Scorpius supported by Rose. The relief that came from seeing them - seeing her - alive and in one piece was like an explosion in his gut that tore with it most of the tension of the evening, and he couldn’t help but grin. 

‘You’re all right!’ 

Rose gave him a tired look and a wan smile. Scorpius looked far worse off, battered and bruised and limping with the same leg that had been struck in Badenheim. ‘In one piece, at least. We had a little run-in with the ground, and with Prometheus Thane.’ She looked at Lisa. ‘Who’s -’ 

‘You can explain to each other later,’ said Guerrier, stepping forward. ‘You have the Chalice?’ 

Rose’s expression twitched in a way Matt couldn’t quite place. ‘It was in our vault, yes.’ 

‘And you have the money from the auction?’ This was directed at Matt, who couldn’t think of anything to do but sigh and nod, already called on his attempts at obfuscation. Guerrier gave his own satisfied nod, at which point they found the wands of all of his men trained on them. ‘Then I will take the money.’ 

‘What?’ Matt’s jaw dropped. ‘The deal was that you help us break into the Rabbit’s Foot, and then you help us get _out_ of Monaco without having to go through official channels!’ 

‘Yes,’ said Guerrier. ‘A deal traditionally requires something in return. If you consider what you have just said, that is everything going to you and nothing going to me.’ 

Rose straightened. ‘You wanted vengeance on Maisson and Thane -’ 

‘Which I have, if you’ve taken the proceeds from their auction and the Chalice of Emrys. I don’t want it back - I will consider that your gains from the evening. I am not an unreasonable man and… frankly, that thing could not be sold, could not be _used_ , it was nothing but a target painted on me with which I could do _nothing_.’ His expression pinched. ‘But galleons? I can always use galleons. Consider that _my_ cut for getting you Paquet, for getting you this portkey.’ 

‘There were thousands of galleons in that vault,’ said Matt. ‘That’s a pretty steep cut.’ 

‘And after tonight I am going to have to move my entire operation out of Monaco. You think that Maisson will not realise I was involved? I may have had my vengeance, but vengeance is proving _expensive_. While you, of course, are acting so _altruistically_ , for the good of all, out to get that Chalice. You take what you want. I take what I want. Everyone wins.’ 

‘And, of course,’ said Albus, eyes locked on Guerrier, ‘we have no choice.’ 

‘Of course you have a choice. But that choice is no more than _how_ we reach the same end, rather than what that end will be. And if you resist, I will take the money and you do not get a portkey out of here. And then Maisson and Thane will catch up with you and the Chalice and you will have a very brief time to enjoy their hospitality.’ 

Lisa stepped closer to Albus at that, and he flinched, turning to Matt. All he did was give a curt nod. 

A rasping breath escaped Matt’s throat. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘It’s not like we were in it for the money.’ It was still a wrenching sensation to reach to his belt and pull out the internally enlarged pouch which contained all of the thousands of galleons - he hadn’t stopped to count - that had been in the vault, and he tossed it to Guerrier. 

That had been _his_ contribution to the evening. Without it, he felt even more like dead weight. 

Guerrier snatched it from thin air, slipping the drawstring open before he peered inside. Long moments passed as he rifled through the contents with his wand, satisfying himself that it was indeed the galleons, and galleons in great amount. ‘Excellent,’ he said at last. ‘It was a pleasure doing business with you all.’ 

He snapped his fingers at one of his men, who lowered his wand to pull out one of the metal rings akin to the permanent international portkeys - something of comparable power would be needed for an unlicensed one to take them abroad without the French magical government noticing their transit with an item of huge magical power. ‘This will take you to the location you requested, Mister Doyle. So I hope you do not take it personally when I say that I never want to see any of you again.’ 

Albus reached to take the portkey, and they gathered up, Rose helping Scorpius limp over to the group. ‘But we’ve had such a _lovely_ time together,’ Scorpius sneered, falling silent only when Rose squeezed his arm. Matt and Selena joined them, and Lisa stayed close to Albus, and none of them said another word to each other or to Guerrier as the Portkey was activated. 

The world spun, dragging them whipping through the air, twisting and wrenching across space instantaneously. Only because he knew what to look for could Matt catch a glimpse of the distance they covered in that heartbeat, the rushing waves of the Mediterranean beneath them - 

\- and then they were dumped cruelly back into the real world, into the cold and dark, the rushing of the sea still around them. Silhouetted against the stars above, Matt could see the outline of a stone house, knew they were at the top of a high hill, and looking down could see the lights of a settlement a distance below. 

Scorpius grunted and staggered, leaning heavily on Rose, still, to keep his footing. ‘Can I know where we are now?’ 

It had been agreed, when Matt said he had the perfect place to lie low, that the others didn’t need to know their bolt-hole. The portkey would take them there, and this way there was less risk of their plans being compromised to Thane if one of them was captured. But now they were away, Scott-free if, perhaps, deprived of their ill-gotten gains. Matt sighed. ‘Greece,’ he said. ‘Or, specifically, the Greek island of Kythos. One of the few isolated magical communities - that village down there is inhabited by witches and wizards.’ 

As their eyes adapted to the gloom, they could see they were on a broad stone front porch, granting them a fine view of the humble Mediterranean island tumbling down to the village and the ocean. Selena turned around. ‘And the house?’ 

‘I know the owner. We can use it. And this place is safe - resistance fighters working against Voldemort from abroad used this place in the war. So we can stay here, get in touch with Rose’s Mum, and sort out a proper portkey back to Britain.’ 

‘Actually…’ Rose’s voice was tensed, and she bit her lip as they all turned to face her. ‘We don’t have the Chalice. It was a fake, and Thane knew that. I don’t think Guerrier ever had the real thing. He seemed honestly relieved at the prospect of getting rid of it - what the hell would he use it for? So I don’t think he knew, I don’t think he hid it and made a fake. I don’t think his father even had the real thing.’ 

Selena’s eyes blazed. ‘So let me get this straight: We just broke into the Rabbit’s Foot for _nothing_.’ 

Rose winced. ‘Pretty much.’ 

‘And we don’t have the Chalice of Emrys,’ said Matt, voice hollow. 

‘No.’ 

‘But nor does Prometheus Thane,’ said Albus. 

‘No.’ 

‘You don’t think he lied?’ said Matt. ‘Let us take a fake when he’s got the real thing, to make us think he doesn’t have it?’ 

‘It’s possible,’ said Rose. ‘But I don’t think so. It’s not like we’d be hot on his heels right now if we thought he had it.’ 

‘So it’s still out there, somewhere. Only we don’t know where.’ 

‘Yes.’ 

‘So,’ said Scorpius. ‘Here’s the million-galleon question: What the bloody hell do we do next?’

* * 

Eva Saida woke. 

No, that was wrong. She wasn’t Eva Saida any more. She was Lisa Delacroix, and she couldn’t just _say_ it, she had to _believe_ it. Think it until it was true, until it sank into her mind and her heart and she didn’t just say the name, she breathed the name, the identity. They had to be fooled, had to trust her implicitly, or this entire scheme would fail. 

She didn’t _like_ the scheme. But Thane had asked her to do it, and so she would do it. 

Guerrier had never had the Chalice. Nor had, they believed, his father. They had gone to such desperate lengths to break past his security in Monaco that she couldn’t for a moment believe this was a fake to throw off the trail. It had taken the very best people doing their very best work to get into his safety deposit box, and if Guerrier had wanted a diversion, there were far more effective ways of doing it. 

Somewhere down the line, over the long, long centuries, someone had swapped the Chalice of Emrys in Reynald de Sablé’s tomb for a fake. 

Thane had been beside himself with rage at the discovery. He’d not ranted or raved, just stood there in a cold, pitiless fury. And then he’d said they were going back to Paris, because if he was going to have to put up with a group of children on his trail, he was going to put them to use. 

He would continue to hunt for leads for the Chalice, of course. But he said Malfoy, Potter, Weasley and the others would conduct their own hunt, too, and he was convinced they were resourceful, convinced they were more than just schoolchildren. And so she would be placed amongst them to watch them, steer them if necessary - and, if they found a good lead on the Chalice, or got their hands on it themselves, she could get in touch with Thane, and thus would they turn an inconvenience into a resource. 

Eva - Lisa - had not been convinced. But then, as she’d told herself, to ‘rescue’ her and begin this plan, they had to successfully break into the Rabbit’s Foot in the first place. Maisson would have refused to go along with the plan, so they could do very little to make it easier for them to succeed. 

But succeed they had, which meant she had been ‘rescued’, which meant that they were considerably more resourceful and competent than she had given them credit for. Even if they’d been double-crossed by Guerrier at the last moment. That, at least, could not have been easily avoided. Not if they wanted his help getting out of the country, and they almost certainly needed it. 

So now here she was. Given a room in this house on this Greek island and, despite herself, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep with an exhaustion she hadn’t known she’d felt. And now she was awake, watching dust-motes drift past the window through which spilt the morning sun, watching them settle upon the plain floorboards. It was a simple, plain place - and from what Matthias Doyle had said, it sounded an _excellent_ place to lay low. 

She had to give them some credit. 

Eva - no, Lisa, Lisa, _Lisa_ \- sighed and lay back on her pillow. She _ached_. Downing had not, despite Thane’s warning, been gentle. He had used fists and he had used magic, and had barely hidden his relish at what was purportedly a theatrical display to help her win enough sympathy to be believable. The two of them had been at each other’s throats for years on end, and he had not passed on the chance to put her in her place when she couldn’t, shouldn’t fight back. When she had been helpless. 

A long time ago, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t be helpless again. To break that promise felt worse than the apprehension at the role she had to play. 

And it was why her flinch at the knock at the door, when nobody could see her, was real. Not a part of the act. Normally she would tell herself, when playing a role, when infiltrating undercover - because this wasn’t the first time she’d done this - that if she could cling to any facet of truth inside herself, she should do so. It would make it more believable. 

She didn’t like clinging to genuine helplessness. 

So she had to swallow down on the ancient and yet familiar taste of panic before she could answer the knock, drawing the bedsheets up. ‘Come in?’ At least she didn’t have to pretend she couldn’t speak English. Lisa Delacroix had been a professional. 

The door swung open and there stood Albus Potter, holding a tray. His broad, honest face was furrowed with what apprehensive concern, and her gut twisted. ‘I was just checking if you were awake,’ he said, voice faltering, ‘and if you wanted, er, some breakfast.’ 

Damn it, he was so _young_. Except he was only a year or two younger than her, and then there’d been how he’d fought his way into the Rabbit’s Foot - that wasn’t the act of a child… 

She blinked, forcing her heartbeat to slow from the thudding race that had started at the knock on the door. _Old habits. You_ _’re not nine years old any more. You are in control. This is your deception. The helplessness is a front. Don’t_ ** _feel_** _it, or you_ _’ll lose control._   
  
_Fucking Downing._   
  
‘Some breakfast would be - yes, thank you.’ She moved to sit up, still in the battered clothes she’d been wearing in the Rabbit’s Foot. ‘What time is it?’ 

‘Ten o’ clock. I didn’t want to wake you earlier, you seemed like you needed the rest.’ Albus crossed the room and put the tray down on her bedside table, and the smell of scrambled eggs filled her nostrils. ‘I hope you like eggs; I can do something different -’ 

‘It’s fine.’ She made herself smile up at him, because men liked it when she smiled, and she had to get _this_ man on-side. He was the dominant personality, the leader, and if he vouched for her, all of the others would fall in line. ‘Thank you.’ 

He nodded, wringing his hands together as she reached for the tray, and she could see his eyes flickering across the side of her face. ‘How - how’re you feeling?’ 

‘Not great,’ she said, and that was easy to say honestly. ‘But - getting better. Thank you - I seem to have a lot to thank you for.’ She made her smile go sad. ‘For breakfast, for healing, for getting me _out_ of there -’ 

_Slight quaver of the voice. Hint at being broken, traumatised, but **he** can make it better, **he** can save you_ _…_   
  
‘You don’t need to thank me. I mean - I couldn’t leave you there. I couldn’t leave anyone as their prisoner, but not with what they were doing to you…’ He bit his lip. ‘Was it - you don’t have to talk about it. Was it Thane?’ 

Despite her cover, she couldn’t bring herself to paint Prometheus Thane as a pitiless, brutal thug. He was more than that. She shook her head. ‘No. Another one. For the pleasure of it. They called him Downing.’ 

She saw his expression twist, and remembered that Albus Potter had broken Elijah Downing’s arm in an interrogation. Suddenly she liked him a lot more. ‘I know Downing. He’s a nasty piece of work.’ 

‘He is.’ She dropped her head, let her hair form a veil to hide her face, and realised she was too damn hungry to pretend she didn’t have an appetite. Besides, it would please him more if she ate the eggs. And they _did_ smell good. So she tucked in. 

She heard him shifting his weight, heard the floorboards creaking underfoot. ‘Would you like me to let you get some more rest, leave you alone -’ 

‘No,’ she said - not because she didn’t want to be alone with her aching bones and the memory of Downing’s fists, but because she had to start getting her claws in. ‘I mean - I would rather not be alone. Stay. Please.’ 

And that would please him, so it was sensible to say. She saw his small smile as he nodded, saw the concern in his eyes as he dragged up a stool to sit next to the bed as she ate. It was all too raw, too close, too much like genuine comfort, and so she swallowed her mouthful of eggs so she could break the silence. ‘What happens now? I know you were after the Chalice…’ 

‘We want to stop Thane from getting it, yes. We think he intends to use it to enhance or strengthen Phlegethon - Eridanos - this virus springing up across the world. It’s the Council of Thorns’ weapon, their best way to spread fear and control and to weaken governments so they can seize control. So the last thing we want is them making it _better_.’ 

She nodded. ‘It was what they wanted the Professor for.’ This time her flinch was forced, and she congratulated herself on regaining control. ‘He was - they questioned him, he led them to Paris, he put them on the path to Guerrier, and when they thought they had the Chalice, they killed him. I don’t even know why they left me alive…’ 

_Except I killed the real Lisa Delacroix in the dungeons of Badenheim Castle, but let_ _’s not worry too much about that fact._   
  
‘I’m sorry.’ There was such genuine warmth in his voice that she couldn’t help but feel comforted, even if she had no grief for the Professor or the girl. ‘Were you two close?’ 

‘No, not really - he only hired me when the Council took an interest in him, he suspected he was a target for a while. But they - they tortured him in Badenheim until he broke, and then again in Paris -’ 

It was time to cry. Thane had been delighted when he’d discovered, all those years ago, that she could cry on cue. It was useful to have a young girl on side who could look pitifully vulnerable and sob, and as she’d grown into a woman, it remained useful. She preferred to not play these roles, when she could best anyone Thane threw her against with a wand, but such tools could not be left behind. 

So she put the back of her hand to her mouth, made a show of trying to stifle a sob, and willed tears to spring up for a man whose life she had only cared about when his death had become inconvenient. ‘I - I’m sorry -’ 

When he reached for her free hand, she flinched without meaning to. She didn’t need to pretend that she’d always hated being touched, and with the pain from Downing so fresh, that aversion was all the more vivid. But she steeled herself, let him take her hand, because even if he saw her flinch, saw her sad, he would feel better if he thought she was letting him in. 

_Yes. Play the brave hero, comforting the broken girl. And then you_ _’ll see only that._   
  
‘You don’t need to be sorry,’ he said, voice low, urgent, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand. ‘You went through a lot. Rest. Take it easy.’ 

She drew a deep breath and made it quaver, acted as if he was giving her strength to regain her composure. ‘Are you still going after him?’ 

‘We’re going after the Chalice,’ said Albus, and winced. ‘Not sure how, yet. But we’re working on it. And we have to get it before Thane does.’ He squeezed her hand lightly. ‘But don’t you worry about that. We can get in touch with your employers, with your family, let them know you’re -’ 

‘No!’ She’d planned for this, but let the brief panic at being caught out fuel her reaction, because this fear needed to be believable. And so she made herself clutch his hand with both of hers, made her eyes widen with fear, summoned every inch of pain to look truly afraid and truly _needing_. ‘No, they - I don’t think that would be wise.’ 

He frowned. ‘Why not? People will want to know you’re all right…’ 

‘Yes, but - we were betrayed.’ She closed her eyes as if slamming back memories, then made herself meet his gaze, pleading. ‘Our travel plans were supposed to be secure. I was providing the Professor’s security, I did my best, but they caught us at the end of one of our private portkeys, we were betrayed from the inside, ambushed…’ 

All of this was true. It had been easier to bypass Dresdner’s security protocols by buying off someone who’d arranged them. In truth, Lisa Delacroix had never been a bodyguard, just a paper-pusher, but she had anticipated needing to explain her expertise with a wand, and it wasn’t as if a bodyguard masquerading as an administrative assistant was that odd under the circumstances. 

‘If I resurface, if I go back - I don’t know if they think _I_ know something, if I won’t be compromised again…’ _Captured again_. She let those words go unspoken, projected them with her earnest, worried gaze locked on his, tightened her grip on his hand pleadingly. 

‘Okay, okay.’ He tried a reassuring smile, took her hands in both of his, nodded. ‘We’ll keep word of you silent for now. But we can see about arranging you somewhere secure to be, to stay, until this is over…’ 

‘It’ll be over when Thane’s done. When he doesn’t need the Chalice.’ She made a show of steeling herself, drawing another deep breath. ‘I know that needing to be rescued isn’t exactly the best way for me to convince you that I’m useful, but I _am_ trained, I do know what I’m doing and… they killed the man I was supposed to protect. If I help you, I can protect myself, put things right, and _stop_ these people…’ 

He watched her for a long moment and her breath caught, worrying that she’d laid it on too thick, too soon; made too much of a show of wanting to be involved when she should have left it a day, maybe, played the vulnerable card more. 

No. She needed a shot of steel running through her if she was going to keep his attention. And she’d watched them in Paris, she’d seen how they operated, she’d read his body language. He walked amongst them and spoke without assumption - just _knowing_ , even subconsciously, that he would be listened to, be followed. 

He was the key to all of this. If she got him on side, the others would be a piece of cake. 

‘Okay,’ Albus said again, and once more he smiled that small, reassuring smile. ‘I’ll talk to the others; we’re still figuring out what we’re doing. But you’ve got more experience of Thane and his people than us, and I saw your moves in the Rabbit’s Foot; you’re damned fast. I think we could use all the help we can get, and you’ve hardly got less right than us to go after him. But - I’ll talk to them.’ 

_Smile. Reward him._ And she did, and got a shy, pleased smile in response, but it wasn’t his smile that struck her, but his eyes. The bright green eyes of Albus Potter, unwavering, warm, full of promise, conviction. They told her everything would be all right, they told her he would stand by his words, they helped banish a little of that old, hollow sense of helplessness that made her still hate being touched, that was genuine and that Downing had re-awoken. 

But above all, they told her that she could easily make this man dance to her tune, and that where he danced, the others would follow. 


	22. Falling Feels Like Flying

‘So. We have sun, sea, sand. Coffee. Lunch. Even a little aperitif if we fancy it.’ Selena poured a clear liquid into her glass and sat back, admiring the view from the terrace in front of the house. 

Rose eyed her. ‘Isn’t it a little early for an aperitif?’ 

‘It is. But I was going to finish off my little summary with, “what more could we want?” and the answer to _that_ question is, “the fucking Chalice of Emrys”. And so in its absence I’m going to have a glass of ouzo.’ 

‘I was going to go with the more modest hope of, “a plan,”’ said Matt, sat at the other end of the wooden table, the light sea breeze which stopped the heat from becoming stifling tugging at the pages of his Book of Many Books. 

‘Does your book have a plan?’ said Selena archly. 

‘…not yet.’ 

‘Then I’m going to stick with my ouzo.’ 

Rose sighed. ‘This is productive. This is so madly productive.’ 

‘Well, I don’t know!’ Matt slammed the book down. ‘I’m doing my _bloody_ best, I’m going through the records, I’m trying to see what we missed, what _Thane_ missed, and I just - I don’t fucking know!’ 

She bristled. ‘I’m not getting at you, Matty -’ 

‘Don’t _call_ me that.’ He got to his feet and broke into agitated pacing, running a hand through his hair, which had - much to her distress - gone back to being floppy and in his eyes. ‘I _hate_ it when you call me that -’ 

‘Then don’t call me _Rosie_ -’ 

‘Oh, ouzo, you don’t judge me or call me silly pet-names or run around in rampant denial,’ Selena cooed to her drink as she poured a few more drops in. 

Rose stabbed an accusing finger at her. ‘And stop being drunk in the middle of the day, it’s just tragic!’ 

She stuck her nose in the air. ‘I’m not _being_ drunk. I’m _getting_ drunk. And, again, I don’t see anyone coming up with any better ideas.’ 

‘I don’t see anyone _working_ on any ideas or research but _me_!’ Matt said, throwing his hands in the air. ‘So I could do without sneering about how unproductive I’m being, from either one of you!’ 

‘This seems like a bad time.’ 

All three of them whirled around at the unexpected voice. In the bright Greek sunlight they hadn’t seen the shimmering in the air that precluded the arrival of Hermione Granger’s patronus. Even now, fully corporeal, it was hard to make out without some squinting, and they might not have noticed it at all if she hadn’t spoken. 

Rose let out a deep breath. ‘Mum. No, it’s not a bad time, it just…’ 

‘You weren’t successful?’ The otter’s nose wrinkled. ‘Albus and Scorpius are all right?’ 

‘They’re fine. Scorpius just took a bit of a tumble, and Al is bringing them lunch.’ 

‘Them?’ 

Rose looked at Selena. ‘Could you go fetch Al and Scorpius while I bring Mum up to speed?’ 

They came out onto the terrace together, because Scorpius was limping again after the landing on his bad leg, and Albus was helping him walk. She just prayed that they could get the chance to rest, this time, until he was properly recovered, or he was going to wind up doing himself some permanent damage if this carried on. But it meant he was slow enough that she could bring her mother up to speed on how the heist from the Rabbit’s Foot Casino had gone by the time all five of them were sat around the outdoors breakfast table. 

Hermione’s patronus nodded. ‘And Miss Delacroix?’ 

‘Resting,’ said Albus, his voice tight in that way which meant he was _really_ bothered. ‘She took - they were not kind. She does ask that we don’t tell her employers or the authorities that she’s alive and free, though. She suspects she and Professor Dresdner were betrayed to the Council of Thorns in the first place.’ 

‘Unfortunately I cannot deem that impossible,’ said Hermione. ‘As the shielding of Thane has continued all this time. If she is a target, then perhaps it is sensible to keep her out of sight.’ 

‘That, and she wants to help us. She was security for Professor Dresdner…’ 

‘She _did_ get captured,’ Scorpius pointed out. 

‘And you and Rose got yourselves surrounded by Thane and his goons yesterday; we’re none of us expecting to out-class superior numbers of mercenaries in this,’ said Albus. 

‘This is assuming that we trust her,’ Selena added. ‘It’s a little convenient she wants to stay hidden, isn’t it?’ 

Albus gave a deep sigh. ‘I don’t think you’d say there was anything convenient about what Downing did to her. I’m not a fool, though, I know we can’t just blindly throw our lot in with her, but I _also_ know it won’t do her much good for me to, right now, act suspicious of her. She’s still recovering.’ He looked at Hermione. ‘Can you get her records off the French government? Discreetly.’ 

‘I can try. What are you hoping to find?’ 

‘Anything. Evidence one way or another on if she’s trustworthy.’ He looked back at the others. ‘Yes, I want to be sure. If everything’s as she says it is, she could be a useful ally. If her story checks out, we should consider it. If it doesn’t, we leave her behind - or worse.’ 

Scorpius shrugged. ‘Can’t Rose, I don’t know, check her with Legilimency?’ 

Rose made a face. ‘Aside from anything else, I can’t do Legilimency subtly. She’d know I was in her head, _and_ it’s a gross invasion of privacy, a violation of one’s mind -’ 

‘You did it to Paquet,’ said Scorpius. 

She looked at him, expression flattening. ‘That was to achieve a specific goal. I’m not going up to a scared woman, telling her I don’t trust her, and then plundering her every memory. Or are you suggesting that I solve _every_ problem by rooting through someone’s brain with Legilimency?’ She couldn’t help but make her gaze pointed, and Scorpius shifted. 

Albus lifted a hand. ‘We will be careful. We’ll let Aunt Hermione dig up some records, see what they say. But I don’t want to treat what might just be a very traumatised woman like a suspect and violate her privacy just for our convenience. And even if I’m suspicious, I’m not going to be suspicious to her face. We have breathing room here to be careful - we don’t need to make any decisions yet, and for now, we can observe her.’ 

Scorpius watched him for a moment, then shrugged. ‘If you want. I’ve not exchanged two words with her yet. But that does raise the important question: involved in _what_? What are we even doing?’ 

‘You believe that Guerrier never had the real Chalice?’ said Hermione. ‘He double-crossed you…’ 

‘We were naive to think he’d give us something for nothing,’ said Matt, shaking his head. ‘A discreet international Portkey can’t have been cheap, let alone needing to relocate his operations _and_ all the information on Paquet…’ 

‘You should have taken me up on my offer for a Portkey.’ Her voice was full of reproach. 

‘Mum, you know that wasn’t wise,’ said Rose. ‘If it was an international Portkey which went without the knowledge of the French government, then it’s _illegal_ , and we really shouldn’t have you using the task force’s resources to commit international crimes. Not when we have alternatives. And there’s no telling what contacts Maisson has in the French government - if an official Portkey could be intercepted, traced, then we’d be in a world of trouble.’ 

‘Regardless. It happened. All we lost was money, and it wasn’t money we needed,’ said Albus firmly. ‘We wanted to deny the money to the Council of Thorns. It doesn’t matter that Guerrier has it.’ 

‘It could have gone to better causes,’ said Hermione. ‘And I ask again, are you sure Guerrier doesn’t have the real Chalice?’ 

‘We’re not sure of anything,’ said Matt. ‘But I don’t think he did. I think he was glad to have the Chalice off his hands and to get vengeance on Maisson and a _sack_ of cash, even if he has to leave Monte Carlo.’ 

‘So if we assume he didn’t lie to us,’ picked up Rose, ‘and I think we have to work off that assumption if we’re not planning on tracking him down and shoving Veritaserum down his throat, then I think he never had the real Chalice. And if he’s telling the truth about his father, then his father probably never had the Chalice - just _thought_ he did, _thought_ he was taking it away from de Sablé’s tomb.’ 

‘I hate to raise this,’ said Scorpius, ‘but is it possible the Chalice was _never_ in de Sablé’s tomb?’ 

Rose pursed her lips. ‘That magical signature I picked up there, the one they used to make the fake convincing - that was real, and that was powerful. If something like the Chalice had been there even for a century, that it left that kind of magical echo there is believable. Albus and I went over the place thoroughly. It was a background residue, not still being produced from anything in the tomb. I would put money on the Chalice having been there for a period of time.’ 

‘The question is when. And why it was taken. And why a fake was put there,’ said Albus. 

‘Oh, reasons for a fake are _easy._ ’ Scorpius waved a hand. ‘It’s bloody worked, hasn’t it? We’ve chased the fake. Thane’s chased the fake. French resistance fighters guarded the fake from the Thule Society, who wanted the fake. The fake was easier to trace and I suppose the Guerriers had no reason to second-guess what was right in front of their noses.’ 

‘None of this brings us any closer to our next step.’ Selena reached for the bottle again. 

‘I will do what I can,’ said Hermione’s patronus, ‘to monitor movements across the international Portkeys, now that Thane and his men will probably be on the move again. And the elections are at the end of the week.’ 

Selena blinked. ‘I forgot that. So, hopefully, Mum wins.’ 

‘And when she wins,’ said Rose, ‘we get a Chairman of the Convocation who can make the member nations take Thane seriously as somebody who needs hunting.’ 

Hermione sighed. ‘I don’t suppose you’ll consider coming home if that happens?’ She barely waited for a response before the otter shook its head. ‘Foolish question. But if you don’t have a next move…’ 

‘We’ll find something,’ said Albus. 

‘I think we should do our best to go through the history of the Chalice and try to trace the last place it was _confirmed_ as being - the real thing, I mean,’ said Rose. ‘We can walk forward from there to see when the swap happened.’ 

Matt scratched his chin. ‘If it definitely rested in de Sablé’s tomb for a while,’ he said, ‘then I want to know who the hell Reynald de Sablé was. If he was considered important enough to have a tomb built for him in the Chalice’s formal resting place.’ 

‘Not to mention the fact that it looks like the tomb was built for him even before he died.’ 

‘ _Or_ ,’ said Scorpius, ‘the creepy but important point that he was never buried there.’ 

‘It might be nothing,’ said Matt. ‘But it’s my best bet. Maybe he had the Chalice with him and died somewhere else. That doesn’t explain why it spent some time in the tomb and was then taken away, but…’ He rubbed his forehead, then looked at the otter. ‘Ms Granger, I’m going to need as many records as you can possibly gather, magical _and_ mundane, on the Templars, other Holy Orders, and crusades and crusaders of the eleventh to fourteenth century placed in the Hogwarts Library so I can access them on the Book.’ 

‘We could really do with more than one of those,’ Rose muttered. 

‘I’ll arrange it,’ said Hermione. ‘Though you could come back to Britain, you know, and conduct your research from _here_.’ 

Albus shook his head. ‘We should lie low for a while with Thane and Maisson pissed off. And I want to keep Miss Delacroix isolated - for her own safety if she’s telling the truth, and for everyone else’s if she isn’t.’ 

Scorpius glanced at him, but shrugged. ‘Also this is as good a place as any for us to take a break. Sun, sea, sand.’ 

‘Coffee. Lunch,’ muttered Rose. 

‘And a little aperitif if we fancy it,’ finished Selena, sliding a glass of ouzo over to Scorpius. 

Rose snatched it up before he could grab it. ‘You’ve been pumped full of healing potions and charms,’ she admonished him. ‘You are absolutely not having a glass of this -’ She took a sip and made a face, ‘- positively vile stuff!’ 

‘So, time well spent,’ said her mother’s patronus dryly. ‘I think I prefer you getting drunk than breaking into the biggest and most secure casino in Europe, possibly the world.’ 

‘You broke into Gringotts,’ said Rose. 

‘And broke out riding a dragon,’ added Albus. 

‘Yeah,’ said Scorpius. ‘I only broke out crash-landing a broken broom. Which, I would like to point out, is the _second_ broom I have lost in the line of duty. I only had the thing four months!’ 

Hermione sighed. ‘As ever, I have no leg to stand on when it comes to berating you for foolhardy escapades. Not to mention illegal ones.’ 

‘It was for a greater good,’ said Scorpius, ‘and besides, it was Albus’ plan.’ 

Albus lifted his hands. ‘Breaking into the vaults themselves, or through the roof, wasn’t down to me -’ 

‘The multi-pronged assault from different entrances, manipulation of the wards, diversions, and extractions, _were_ your brain-children, though, mate. You’re getting scary.’ 

‘What’s scary,’ said Selena, ‘is the term “brain-children.”’ 

Hermione’s patronus looked at Albus. ‘Young man, you will never be as foolhardy or as impetuous as your father. But I think you are beginning to surpass him in planning and in the number of people you can drag in your wake on these escapades.’ 

He gave a small, but infinitely pleased smile. ‘And for years people have wondered why I was Sorted into Slytherin. But there’s our plan. Take some time to rest and recover and, God forfend, maybe even enjoy ourselves. Do some research into the Chalice, de Sablé, and try to find a point in history we can confirm the Chalice having been at. Or was likely at. Keep our ears to the ground on Thane and his movements in case he can give us a lead - but I’d rather we were a step ahead of _him_ rather than chasing again.’ 

‘If we’re staying here,’ said Selena, ‘someone needs to go shopping.’ 

‘I thought that was your speciality?’ said Scorpius. 

‘ _Shopping_ shopping is my speciality. I mean stuff for the house. Food. Drink. There was only one bottle of ouzo in the cupboard - oh, and a bottle of vodka but that label was _really_ worn and I don’t want to know how long that’s been here.’ 

Rose looked at her mother’s patronus. ‘So I think we’re not going to be productive for a little bit.’ 

The otter gave its approximation of a smile. ‘Just stay safe, then. All of you. Floo me if you need anything. I’ll check in tomorrow morning - usual time?’ 

She smiled back. ‘That would be nice.’ 

Then the patronus winked out of existence, and Scorpius turned to Matt. ‘So, going to run down to the shops for us?’ 

Matt narrowed his eyes. ‘Why don’t _you_ run down the shops for us?’ 

‘ _I_ hurt my leg doing something awesome. I need to get some rest.’ 

‘And _I_ am the one who needs to do the research to find our next lead for the whole reason we’re _here_ , while you sun yourself pointlessly as usual.’ 

‘And I still have some ouzo to work through,’ said Selena helpfully. 

‘Oh, for the love of -’ Rose got to her feet fast enough to make the chair rattle. ‘ _I_ _’ll_ go to the bloody shops. I don’t need rest, drink, and Matt can’t share the Book.’ 

Both Matt and Scorpius got their feet, the latter more awkwardly. ‘I can -’ 

‘No, no. _You_ have an injured leg. And _you_ have important work to do, remember?’ Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. ‘You covered this. I’ll go.’ 

Albus stood also. ‘I can come with -’ 

‘It’s a magical shop so there’s nothing wrong with me using my bag; stuff won’t be heavy. And someone needs to be here to keep an eye on these _children_ , Al.’ Rose sighed. ‘I’ll enjoy the walk. See the village. Clear my head. You’ve got food in for dinner, yes, Al? So don’t wait up. I’ll be back when I’m back.’ 

And without waiting for another word, she turned on her heel and headed for the path that led the languid line down the island, from this house on the hill and descending to the humble magical village. Albus had nipped down the shops that morning, but had got nothing more than some eggs, juice, tea, and bread. If they would be here for days then they would need some supplies. 

It would take some time, and it would give her the chance to have her thoughts to herself for a few hours after the long, long week of being confined in the tiny space of the flat in Monaco. That and she had no desire to sit around watching Selena get herself determinedly drunk, watching Scorpius prefer to snipe at Matt than talk to her, watching Matt get self-righteous about his work, and watching Albus be tense for reasons she couldn’t fathom. 

The last she had some sympathy for, but she was long past being able to tackle someone else’s woes with the appropriate level of empathy. She was worn, she was tired. She’d come face-to-face with their nemesis and forced herself to stay calm and collected and outwit him. She’d grabbed onto Scorpius while they hurtled across the skies and then at the _ground_ on a broom she hadn’t been convinced wouldn’t send them plummeting to their deaths. 

She’d had to stop him sacrificing himself on some stupid diversion which would have probably worked. If that had happened, when she’d realised the Chalice wasn’t real only when they were huddled in the stairwell… 

_He wanted to sacrifice himself. Is he trying to make up for Methuselah stopping him? Is that what all of this is about?_ Rose scowled and kicked a pebble as she walked the well-trodden dirt path that led past olive trees, blue skies above painting a bright contrast to her gloomy thoughts. _I cannot even begin to fathom that boy_ _’s wishes, and he won’t so much as talk to me._ So she acted in a way which would have made Selena proud. She shopped. 

Admittedly, the pride would have rubbed off when she picked up food instead of shoes, household supplies instead of dresses, but she could run up a mental list, walk around the rustic village and its little dock and the small shops of friendly magical folk who were accustomed enough to tourists to speak some English and be welcoming, but isolated enough that all was quiet, peaceful. 

It was distracting. It took some time. It let her settle her rattled nerves and the raw edges of her emotion, and so the sun was fat and low in the sky when she was finally hiking back up the hill, the climb enough to make her breathing hard by the time she approached the last turn before the house. 

Which was where, right before the turn, she found Scorpius sat on a sunset-bathed rock just on the edge of the path, the tumbling drop to the orchard in the field below. He’d been waiting for her, as evidenced by him scrambling to his feet, resting his weight on his good leg, and his expression sank. 

She knew that expression. It was the hangdog face which came before the puppy-dog eyes and the entirely earnest routine of apology which nevertheless assumed success. But after the last week she wasn’t in much of a mood for him to be adorable at her, and she didn’t break her step. ‘Oh, at last you want to talk.’ 

‘Rose, can we just - I’m sorry -’ He reached out as she swept past him, hand grabbing her by the elbow. 

His grip was light, enough for her to tug herself free without issue, but she still stopped and whirled to face him. ‘Now you’re sorry. _Now_ you want to talk about it. What if _I_ don’t!’ 

‘I - ‘ His brow furrowed. ‘You’re not the one who needs to explain themselves!’ 

‘You’re right! Which is why I don’t want to _talk_ about it, I want to shout about it!’ Fury twisted in her, a fury she hadn’t realised she’d been clamping down on all week - because screaming matches couldn’t happen in a cramped apartment, or on the open streets of Monaco, and not when they were planning a heist. ‘What is this, you _discard_ me like something distasteful, run out on me, then you won’t even look at me for a week and you think you can just say you’re _sorry_ -’ 

She was crying. Damn it, why did this always happen to her? She was sad, but she was angry first, and yet all the stress was making her body react in that way which meant - 

‘Hey, hey!’ Scorpius’ eyes widened, of course, when he saw the tears coming, and he moved closer with his hands outstretched. ‘It’s okay -’ 

She pulled back. ‘It is _not_ okay, damn it, stop ignoring the point just because my eyes are leaking and listen to what I’m saying!’ This was why she hated crying at key moments. Men’s brains switched off and they panicked, instead of engaging with the matter at hand. ‘This takes more than you saying you’re sorry! I am not some _toy_ you can pick up and put down as you like!’ 

‘I don’t think that!’ He’d lifted his hands as she’d moved away, kept them lifted as if it might protect him against the verbal onslaught. ‘I don’t, I’ve been a prick - _again_ \- and I know you need an apology and an explanation and I know you’ve been owed them for a week, but - but they didn’t come, okay, so I figure better late than never!’ 

‘ _That_ _’s_ your apology? “The decent thing was to do something about this sooner, but that didn’t happen so you’re just going to have to suck it up?”’ 

‘That’s not - do you have to make this so hard?’ 

‘You _walked out_ on me, Scorpius! In the middle of - when we were -’ Rose gestured wildly, as if she could snatch the right words from the air. ‘Without explanation, and then you couldn’t talk to me! Even look at me! You made me feel like I was abhorrent and worthless and after _all_ we’ve been through, you couldn’t give me so much as an explanation! Just left me on my own!’ 

He flinched at the last. ‘You weren’t on your own, were you, seeing as -’ 

‘I swear to God, Scorpius, if you are about to invoke Matt _again_ then I am gone - we have _talked_ about this -’ 

‘I was going to say Selena, but as _you_ bring him up, how _was_ your night at the Rabbit’s Foot together?’ 

‘Lovely!’ She took a step forward, stamping her foot for emphasis of the petty blow. ‘We had a nice drink, we talked, we made peace, it was nice to spend time with someone who wasn’t treating me like my very presence was toxic -’ 

‘You weren’t toxic! You weren’t abhorrent!’ Scorpius exploded at last, running his hands though his hair, the mop even wilder and more bedraggled. ‘I didn’t get you into bed and then think, “my God, what the hell is this”, we were there and then you were - it was all -’ He sputtered. ‘Perfect! Too perfect!’ 

She squinted at him. ‘That makes - less than no sense. If you want to talk about this, can you at least not _lie_ -’ But she was going to cry again, and she was already sick of crying in front of him and so turned away, went to stalk back up to the house where there was light and people and friends - 

He grabbed her arm again, pulling her back, and when he spoke his voice was low but anguished, sounding as if every word was forced out. ‘The night was perfect and _you_ were perfect and one moment I was thinking I’d give anything to make the night not end, and _then_ I thought, “but it will, and then it’ll go wrong.” Because it - it _always_ goes wrong, doesn’t it?’ 

Her eyes met his, uncomprehending and defensive. ‘I have not been screwing things up -’ 

‘Miranda.’ Scorpius’ breath caught - and then she understood, in a painful flash of realisation, even before he continued. But he’d flinched back at the admission as if it drained him, letting her go. ‘I - she - we -’ 

Finally, she took pity on him. ‘Selena told me that much.’ 

He looked like he didn’t know if he was relieved that confession had been bypassed or was irritated Selena had blabbed his private life. ‘I thought I actually loved her, and then she ran off with Hector Flynn because - you know, I still don’t even _know_ why?’ His shoulders slumped, like he was a marionette whose strings had been made of tension and guilt and upset for the last week, and were finally being snipped one by one. ‘I know you’re not - you’re not her, but…’ 

‘But I chose Hector over you once, too.’ Rose frowned at the rock he’d been sat on. She’d told herself to not feel guilty for what had happened in Hogwarts, that she’d been in an impossible situation, but it was hard. As Selena had once said, she’d managed to pick the options which hurt absolutely everyone involved, after all. 

‘I know that one’s not fair -’ 

‘…and then I guess there’s your mother, too…’ She turned her gaze on him. ‘People leave you, don’t they?’ 

His shoulders hunched up and he took another step back, eyes guarded. ‘Albus doesn’t.’ 

‘They did.’ Her expression sank, and at last she moved closer, slow, like he was a spooked horse who might bolt at any moment. ‘I did.’ 

‘You didn’t have much of a choice, and I was a prick, and really I should stop kissing girls who have boyfriends if I don’t want to accept the possibility that they might reject me -’ 

‘That made it safe, didn’t it. You could kiss me, but nothing could come of it because of Hector.’ 

‘No! Maybe a little!’ But his frown remained. ‘I kissed you because I _wanted_ to kiss you. Because we’d almost died, and I realised _that_ was way more scary than anything else, and I’d got through that okay. Because you pushed me, made me want to be better, made me _be_ better - because I was seeing that you were brilliant and that you cared and I was starting to realise just how damned _alone_ you really are and I wanted to… to make that better.’ 

He stepped closer again, and she blinked. _I hadn_ _’t realised I was alone._ But she had been, hadn’t she? Friendships which didn’t mean very much, deep down. Stuck in her mother’s shadow, unable to meet the expectations or surpass them or bypass them, thanks to Methuselah Jones. And with him, Scorpius, as the brick wall between her and Albus, the family who was also her friend. Not to mention, at the time, a boyfriend she’d wanted specifically so he _wouldn_ _’t_ get too close. 

He carried on. ‘The only thing Hector had to do with why I kissed you was that… if you’d been going out with anyone else, and certainly anyone I liked worth a damn, I wouldn’t have kissed you. It’s not that I kissed you because of him. It’s that I didn’t _not_ kiss you because of him.’ Scorpius’ gaze dropped, but he drew a deep breath and lifted his head, like he was forcing himself to look her in the eye. ‘And, yeah, then you said it couldn’t go anywhere because your boyfriend was afflicted by this horrible necromantic plague, which is an okay reason, I _guess_ …’ He managed a lopsided smile to make this the joke he clearly wanted it to be, and she couldn’t help but give a small smile back, because his smiles were infectious. ‘I forgave you for that,’ he mumbled. ‘I hope you forgave me for being a prick.’ 

‘I did.’ They were close, now, close enough that she could take his hand, but her heart pinched as she looked at him. It would be easy, so easy to just let him be sorry, to reach out, to forget. 

She steeled herself. ‘Talk to me about Paris.’ 

His eyes shut. ‘I’m so - sorry, and mortified. Definitely mortified. So - uh, I don’t think _you_ were the one who came out of that room looking bad.’ 

‘That kind of depends on where you were in the room at that time…’ 

‘Yeah, that’s - fair. But… not from where I was. Because you were… it was…’ He reached for her hand, but only got halfway before he stopped himself, flinching - and despite herself she closed the gap, grabbing his hand, feeling him clutch at her like a lifeline. ‘I’m going to have to get mushy, here, and I don’t have anything like any flowers or chocolates to be adorably distracting, so you’re going to have to promise to not mock me - and I know I don’t have any grounds to _not_ be mocked, and I’d deserve it, but I think I might _actually_ die if you did that, it’s like I’m standing at the top of a really tall building and I’m gonna fall -’ 

She lifted her free hand to his cheek, thumb touching his lips to forestall the flow of rambling words. ‘Talk to me, Scorpius.’ 

His breath caught. ‘…I wanted nothing more than you. And then that scared the ever-loving _hell_ out of me. Like free-falling, and that was great, except there could be rocks at the bottom because last time I tumbled it… ended really badly. This is going to sound like the most contradictory bullshit ever, but it wasn’t terrifying because it was wrong, it was terrifying because it was _perfect_ , only I didn’t get that at the time, I just - something in my brain started screaming at me that it’d end badly, that I’d get hurt, that you’d leave me like you chose Hector before, like _Miranda_ chose Hector before… and it’s because I let my guard down with her and then it exploded in my face.’ He closed his eyes and tilted his face to the palm of her hand. ‘Does that make any sense?’ 

‘Why didn’t you _tell_ me this?’ 

‘Because I didn’t _get_ it until a few days ago - when you went to the Rabbit’s Foot with Matt, and Al slapped me around for getting paranoid, reminded me that you’re _not_ Miranda, and I said of _course_ you’re not Miranda. And it took that before I realised what I was really scared of. Because I think a part of me has been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for you to walk away from me, because a part of me’s convinced that this always happens, and it’s why I expected things to go bad with Matt around, and the idea of - I was being scared, but I was trying to protect myself. Stop myself from getting too close, because the closer I got to you, the further I’d have to fall.’ 

Rose gave a slow, shaking exhale, and closed her eyes too. ‘I can… understand shielding yourself. I’d be lying if I said I went out with Hector for something meaningful. After having to be all mature and rational in breaking up with Matt, I wanted something… safe.’ She met his gaze with apprehension. ‘You’re not safe.’ 

The corners of his lips twitched. ‘Neither are you. You’re in my head, under my skin - in every thought, in every breath, and I protected myself because if you left you wouldn’t be tearing _away_ from me, you’d be tearing _out_ of me. Al’s always made me feel valued, solid, regarded, but you - you shine so bright and you drag me with you, and that makes me feel like _I_ shine. Nobody else does that. Nobody else _has_ done that. I can be a fun friend, I can even be the plucky kid who helped keep spirits raised in a crisis, but you make me want to be a better man, you make me _feel_ like a better man…’ 

His voice trailed off and her breath caught, her hand at his cheek apprehensive - like if her touch was too strong he’d pull away again. ‘I am going nowhere,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t want Matt. I don’t want Hector. I don’t want _anyone_ but _you_ \- but you have to want this, too. I understand that you’ve been hurt, and I understand that however tough it was, that _I_ hurt you, and I _am_ sorry for that. But I won’t be punished for it -’ 

‘I’m not punishing -’ 

‘You _are_ , even if that’s not the point. It helped make you scared of me, being close to me, and so you hurt me. But you have to stop jumping at shadows, and _listen_ to me.’ Her lips thinned, and she kept her hand at his cheek, stopping him from looking away, keeping her gaze locked on his piercing blue eyes. ‘I want you. I want this. You make me smile, and you make me laugh, and you make me feel beautiful - and you make my heart soar, and you make me _think_ , and when I’m with you I can _never_ be alone. Without you, I’d still be that - that _stupid_ girl who thought she was always right and jumped to conclusions and couldn’t see beyond her own nose, let from other people’s points of view… but I can’t be here and constantly reassuring you of this. I can’t look at you and worry if you’re going to pick a fight over Matt, or bolt from me because you’re feeling insecure that day. I can’t be with you and second-guessing everything I’m saying in case it’ll set you off. I can’t - I understand why you were hurt, and afraid, I do.’ 

Something flashed in his eyes, and it was that same glint she’d seen in the bedroom in Paris. ‘There’s a “but” coming up.’ 

‘But you have to trust me, Scorpius. And I don’t know what more I can do to make you trust me. Yes, I - I didn’t _care_ so much if you were upset if I went to the Rabbit’s Foot this week with Matt -’ 

‘I suppose I deserved that,’ he muttered. 

‘But I went for _work_ , not to _hurt_ you.’ _Even if I_ _’m not convinced Matt wasn’t fibbing to make me go._ ‘We… got together in a pretty fraught time. And then when things were quiet, I think we missed some of the fundamental little normal bits and pieces couples do. And things are now fraught _again_. I’m not saying we have to put our personal problems aside for the mission, or whatever - though it would be good if we’re not hunting an ancient artifact of immense power and worrying if we’ll get to cuddle when it’s all over. 

‘I can be in your head, in your thoughts, under your skin, but none of it matters if you don’t trust me. Do you trust me?’ Despite herself, her thumb ran along his lower lip, and it took her a moment to realise why. If he gave the wrong answer - if he couldn’t trust her - she’d never be this close again. Could never be this close again. Her hand was acting of its own will, soaking up every touch, every feel of him, carving him in her mind in case this was the last time. 

He let out a slow, shaking breath, his fingers running down the back of her hand, his own touch apprehensive, like to grip too hard would make her slip from his grasp. ‘I didn’t dare to, because I thought it would hurt. And that was stupid, and cruel, but if I can do that to you, if I can push you away like that and you still come back… how can I not trust you?’ 

‘Of course I came back,’ she breathed. ‘I’ll come back every time.’ 

Then he was closing the gap between them to press his lips against hers in a fervent, greedy kiss. A noise of surprise managed to escape her throat, but despite herself, despite the thudding in her heart, she couldn’t do anything but bury her fingers in his hair, keep him close, try to pour into the embrace every inch of reassurance she could muster. 

And draw on any reassurance she could, too, because he wasn’t the only one of them who was afraid. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled against her lips when he could, voice ragged. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry I hurt you, I’m sorry I hurt you _then_ , of all times, you were…’ His eyes opened to meet hers, earnest, though he didn’t pull back. ‘Perfect. Are perfect. You were amazing last night, in the vault, getting us past those guards…’ 

‘ _You_ got us in, and then you got us _out_ …’ 

‘You came face-to-face with Thane and you didn’t _blink_ , you didn’t lose your cool, you went blow-for-blow on wits with him and _you_ won… I could only stand there and you were _incredible -_ ’ 

‘I did have a card up my sleeve you didn’t -’ 

‘Merlin, woman, accept me complimenting you!’ But despite the joking frustration his voice was still fervent, ardent, and he kissed her again, kissed her like he couldn’t stand going another second _not_ kissing her, and that pushed any protest out of her mind, turning her into nothing but this thoughtless, breathless creature spun around by him. ‘So this is me, putting myself in your hands,’ he whispered once his lips tore from hers, and his words were all that stopped her from being cold at the absence of his touch. ‘This is - you’re not like - _this_ isn’t anything like with any other -’ He scowled. ‘How is it you can throw words right out of my head?’ 

‘I’m not doing it intentionally.’ She couldn’t help but give a small, pleased smile, sliding her hands across his shoulders, linking them behind his neck. ‘We can take things as slow as we need. We’ve probably got a few days here. And you still need rest, and _proper_ rest. I’m worried about that leg.’ 

‘It was fine,’ he protested, ‘then I fell down a lot.’ 

‘And… that was impressive, too.’ Her smile broadened a little. ‘You say I didn’t blink, coming face-to-face with Thane - I had cards up my sleeve. You grabbed me and dragged us onto a broom and a lesser flier would have been sending us to our deaths.’ 

‘That makes this sound less _impressive_ , more “kind of stupid”.’ 

‘And yet you pulled it off.’ Her thumb ran along a scratch on his cheek, left by a splinter of an exploding door. ‘Only you could have done that. Maybe Al could fly as well as you, but he’d have never taken that gamble. Never forget the things you do, Scorp. And - _rest_.’ 

‘I wasn’t planning on resting.’ He gave a slow, crooked smile. ‘I was planning on making up for things.’ Hesitation crept into his gaze. ‘If you forgive me?’ 

‘Forgive - Merlin, I wouldn’t let you kiss me if I didn’t forgive you. You might be dazzlingly diverting and charming, but I have some standards.’ She rubbed her nose against his. ‘The highest, these days. Just - just relax. Talk to me. Listen to me. We used to do that, remember, before the Acromantulas? We teamed up against problems, enemies.’ _Was last night the first time we_ _’ve done that since then?_ She couldn’t remember for sure. There had been embraces and admissions, yes, but also rows, distance, hurt. ‘Don’t answer that. I don’t really care. Talk to me more about making up for things.’ 

He grinned, and it was his pleased, broad, toothy grin - the one which she’d never admit she found half so charming as she did. ‘How about I _don_ _’t_ talk?’ 

So she kissed him again, and it wasn’t a kiss without concern, without fear, without risk - because he had to put his words into actions, and because she had to be worthy of the trust, and because no real problems were fixed with only one conversation. But it had to start somewhere, and all she could do was pick what she wanted, what she needed, and start down that road, regardless of the risk. 

Because nothing worthwhile came without risk, and she was sick and tired of walking the safe road to nowhere.


	23. By the Wayside

Matt blinked as the outside light turned on, spilling gold across the terrace and the outdoor table. ‘What? When did it get dark?’ 

‘The sun went down about fifteen minutes ago.’ Selena stepped up to the table, gaze sweeping across the horizon of the Mediterranean that glowed with the memory of dusk. Then she looked at him. ‘You often read when you can’t see anything?’ 

‘Practice.’ 

‘Liar. You couldn’t see a thing.’ 

He flinched. ‘Al’s cooking dinner?’ 

‘And the girl - Lisa - she’s down in the kitchen. She’s an odd one.’ 

‘I haven’t really talked to her.’ He closed the Book of Many Books. ‘I was busy.’ 

‘Busy not-researching. What were you doing?’ 

Matt sighed. ‘Waiting.’ 

‘Waiting?’ She looked down the path. ‘Waiting for Rose.’ 

‘I want to talk to her. So I’m going to wait here. Grab her when she comes back. We need to - we should talk.’ 

‘And what’re you going to _say_?’ 

He flinched. ‘You were right last night. I _was_ lying to her when I said I just wanted to be friends. And that was wrong of me, petty of me. Manipulative. So I want to talk to her before Malfoy does, and I should tell her the truth. Then she can make… an informed decision.’ 

‘Wow.’ 

‘That’s _not_ a lie.’ 

‘No, this time it’s actually mature.’ Selena perched on the edge of the table. ‘I mean, it does mean you’re dragging this ridiculous triangle into the middle of our international hunt -’ 

‘What am I _supposed_ to do, Selena? Get drunk and maudlin like you?’ Matt turned his gaze skyward. ‘Fuck me, I can’t say anything without it being offensive, can I?’ 

‘I recommend you fix that before you make a pass at Rose.’ She frowned. Then she clipped him around the ear. 

‘Ow! I’m sorry!’ 

‘That’s not for what you said. I _have_ been pretty drunk and maudlin. It works for me. But Scorpius is my friend and you’re plotting to make a pass at his girlfriend. You jerk.’ 

Matt rubbed the side of his head. ‘I’m open to suggestions.’ 

‘No, no. Rose knows her own mind. If she wants you, she wants you. If she wants Scorpius, she wants Scorpius. And at least it ends all of this.’ Selena’s nose wrinkled. ‘Or moves it on to Round Two.’ 

‘I miss her,’ he grumbled into his Book. ‘Trust me, if I could turn this _off_ , I would.’ 

‘And that’s the only reason I’m not hexing you into oblivion. We _can_ _’t_ turn our feelings off. And I can’t begrudge you doing your utmost to be with someone you like. Just cut out the lying and tricks. At the very least, Rose isn’t going to go, “Oh, Doyle, you lied and manipulated your way into being close to me, acting like a kind, supportive friend when all the time you wanted in my pants! Take me now!”’ 

She’d swept to her feet, hands clasped under her chin, voice in a high-pitched tone which sounded nothing like Rose, and Matt gave her a look. ‘That’s just uncanny,’ he deadpanned. ‘Really.’ 

‘My case rests.’ 

‘And a good one it is.’ Matt tossed the Book onto the table. ‘…you were pretty awesome last night.’ 

‘I know. I might not be about to break into vaults or jump off rooftops or beat up mercenaries. But I can smile and charm with the best of them.’ She tossed her hair over her shoulder. ‘And you should become a professional card shark.’ 

‘That sounds like a great way to get my kneecaps blown off.’ He met her gaze. ‘Thanks, by the way.’ 

‘For getting you out of there? That was the plan.’ 

‘Well, that, yeah. But also - advice. You say it like it is. I appreciate that.’ 

She shrugged. ‘Life’s too short to beat about the bush. Unless I’m manipulating a whole bunch of people to join me on a global hunt for an international super-mercenary. In which case -’ 

Matt’s gaze snapped away from her, and a heartbeat later she, too, heard the footsteps from the end of the terrace. She slid off the table with a sigh, accepting to herself that she’d have to go, let him and Rose talk, ward other people away from wherever they went. Because, however much she disapproved, so long as he was honest, she had no right to stand in the way. People could make their own choices, and if Scorpius was being an arsehole to Rose and not talking to her, it wasn’t her place to fight his fight for him. 

Then she heard the voices and the laughter, and then not just Rose came up onto the terrace but Scorpius, too, the pair of them hand-in-hand. If it hadn’t been for the way Matt’s face went taut in a way an expert at masks could appreciate, she would have silently cheered. 

Rose beamed as she saw them, both wandering over. ‘Oh, hey.’ 

Matt’s expression stayed level. ‘How was shopping?’ 

‘Oh! Yeah, good. We’ve got supplies. I should - how long ‘til dinner?’ 

‘Albus is cooking. You’ve got maybe an hour,’ said Selena, looking between the two. Then she sighed. ‘Give me the damned bag and you two can run off and snog each other senseless, just so you’re not stood there pretending to -’ 

‘I’m not pretending,’ said Scorpius, gaze smug as Rose’s cheeks coloured. 

‘Selena…’ Rose opened and closed her mouth. Then she slung her bag off her shoulder and put it on the table. ‘Well. You’ve made this suitably awkward.’ 

Matt mumbled something and opened his Book, adamantly not looking at either of them. Selena spotted the superior smirk of Scorpius’, and couldn’t help but wonder if this was all for the best. Heartbreak was heartbreak and it hurt, but at least this would be over and done with. She hoped. So she just smiled at them. ‘I’m here to _help_.’ 

‘Appreciated,’ said Scorpius - then he’d grabbed Rose’s hand again and the two of them were heading into the house, the sound of Rose’s embarrassed laughter the last they heard of them before the door swung shut. 

Matt groaned and pushed his Book to one side. Then he slumped, forehead resting against the table. ‘He was waiting further down the path.’ 

‘Looks like.’ 

‘Probably knowing why I was sat here. So he snuck past me. To get to her before I did.’ 

‘So it would seem. He’s a canny little bastard.’ Selena pulled up the chair next to him, and reached for the bottle still on the table. ‘Ouzo?’ 

‘No. Thank you. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.’ Matt hammered his head against the table with each word. ‘What the _fuck_ do I do now?’ 

‘For starters, don’t get drunk and try to kiss me again because you’re all maudlin.’ She refilled her glass, abandoned there since the afternoon, and topped it up with water from the jug Matt had kept to hand. ‘Once can be forgiven. Twice is simply desperate, and I’m not desperate. This time.’ 

‘I wasn’t going to -’ 

‘Congratulations, Doyle, you had your shot and you blew it by pissing around like a manipulative little sod instead of being open and honest,’ said Selena, tilting her glass to him. ‘While Scorpius managed to shoot himself _monumentally_ in the foot and yet _somehow_ recover. So, here’s what you’re going to do.’ She paused long enough to take a sip of her drink, letting the silence drag out for effect. ‘You’re going to get over her.’ 

‘Easier said than -’ 

‘You’re going to take your feelings. You’re going to screw them up into a tiny little ball, and then you’re going to shove them in a tiny little box, and you’re going to bury that box under several slabs of denial and self-control. And it’s going to suck, and it’s going to hurt, and you’re going to struggle with it, but you’re going to do it.’ 

Matt looked up, giving her a forlorn look. ‘Why?’ 

‘Because you’re allowed one shot at this, and you had it, and - no, you didn’t blow it. Rose just wanted Scorpius. If she wanted you, I’m pretty sure you’d have heard about it by now.’ Another sip of ouzo. ‘You tried. You did a poor job of it, but you tried. You lost. And if you continue, any sympathy points you had left are just going to explode into a gazillion tiny pieces, right next to the lingering remnants of your self-respect. Plus, more importantly, I’m going to hex the living hell out of you for interfering with the relationship of my friends.’ 

His expression had been growing more and more miserable as she spoke, and there was another silence when she ended as he scrubbed his face with his hands. ‘You’re right. Christ. I have been making such a fucking idiot of myself.’ 

‘Yep. Ouzo?’ 

He ignored the offer. ‘So. Not going to be that guy any more. Little box. Little box, tucked far away.’ He lowered his hands and let out a deep breath. ‘This is going to suck.’ 

‘Yep.’ 

Matt glanced over at her. ‘Thanks.’ 

‘I’m just saying it as -’ 

‘I mean it.’ He winced. ‘You’ve known all along it would end like this.’ 

‘I’ve _suspected_. Because I’ve seen those two together and I know what they’re like. But you wouldn’t have listened to me. Hope’s a terrible thing.’ Her expression twitched. ‘And, I know it sucks to not be with the one you love.’ 

‘It does.’ He let out a slow, shaking breath - then steadied his hands and focused on the Book. ‘So. Different things. I can find the next step, I can crack this mystery - this is good. It’s important. It’s something I can do.’ 

‘It is! It’s productive.’ 

Matt looked at her, and because there was a waver in his gaze, this time she believed the control in his expression. If she could be moderately okay with Methuselah gone, then he’d bloody well manage to cope with Rose and Scorpius fawning over one another in front of him. ‘Help me?’ 

She rolled her eyes. ‘I just helped you. That was my advice, Doyle, it doesn’t -’ 

‘I mean, with the research - it helps to have someone to talk to, take notes, we can work together -’ 

And then she was on her feet, heart thudding in her chest harder and faster than it had even in the Rabbit’s Foot, and her breath caught in her throat. ‘No.’ 

Matt blinked - then realisation flashed in his eyes. ‘Oh, hell, I didn’t mean to -’ 

_How the hell did you figure this out before I did?_ ‘It’s fine.’ Selena lifted her hands and backed off. ‘I’m - call me when it’s dinner, okay?’ 

He stood, closing the Book. ‘Selena, I’m sorry, I was just trying to -’ 

‘Help _me_? I don’t need your help.’ 

‘You need someone’s!’ he said, but she had turned on her heel by then and stormed off, back down the path the way Rose and Scorpius had come - Rose and Scorpius, so happy again, with one another, _together._ When she was here and the idea of sitting down and helping another boy with research felt like a betrayal even more than kissing that boy had. 

Maybe she _wasn_ _’t_ ‘moderately okay’ with Methuselah gone after all.

* * 

It was so damn _bright_ here. That was what Lisa was taking away from this island, that sunlight crept everywhere, kept its glow long into the evening, infiltrated the house through its very pores to cast what should have been a gloomy, bare room into something golden and cosy. She wasn’t really one for ‘cosy’. Or Eva wasn’t, at least. Was Lisa Delacroix? 

The second morning, she rose at a respectable time. The previous day had been spent sleeping, which had been unpleasant. Not for the rest, but she disliked being so reliant upon those around her for her safety. But she couldn’t argue _against_ the healing charms which would draw on her own energy and patch her up swiftly, efficiently. She’d had to smile at Albus Potter and let him help. 

It had been easier than she wanted to admit. 

But dawn came early, so the sun was fully in the sky when she stepped out of her room onto the bare floorboards of the corridor, and almost walked into Scorpius Malfoy trying to slip out of the bedroom opposite. 

Instinct took over, an instinct which had her greeting him at wand-point, free hand poised and ready to slam him against the wall before she stopped herself. She could appear twitchy. She shouldn’t appear _violent_. Even if she felt on edge and with all of her protective walls up and blazing, even if she didn’t want _anyone_ close. 

Scorpius went cross-eyed as he looked at the wand directed straight at his nose. ‘Either you’re not a morning person, or this is some sort of diabolical dawn betrayal.’ 

She forced an apologetic smile, lowered the wand, and slowed her breathing. ‘Sorry. I’m a little on edge and not entirely awake. I didn’t think anyone would be up at this time.’ 

‘You’d be surprised. I heard at least Albus on the stairs. And I think Matt. They’re morning birds. I’m not.’ 

‘And yet, here you are.’ She glanced at the closed door behind him. ‘That isn’t your bedroom.’ 

‘It both _is_ ,’ said Scorpius, ‘and isn’t.’ 

She quirked an eyebrow. Thane went spare at the prospect of relationships in his teams. ‘I see.’ 

‘So I think it’d be rude to not cook her breakfast. By which I mean, “get Al to cook breakfast and then bring it up”.’ 

‘He’s a good cook.’ She fell into step with him on the walk along the landing, towards the creaky stairs down. ‘That is, his scrambled eggs were divine yesterday, but then I think anything would have tasted divine under the circumstances.’ 

‘No, I think “divine” about covers Al’s scrambled eggs.’ He glanced sideways at her. ‘How’re you doing, anyway? You’re looking… better?’ 

‘By which you mean the side of my face isn’t covered in bloated bruises and I can see properly out of both eyes? So, yes, better.’ 

He looked like he was going to be awkward, then his expression shifted. ‘I always consider it a good morning if I wake up and can _see_.’ 

‘I find it’s harder to be disappointed with such a mentality.’ Her brow furrowed. ‘But not impossible.’ 

‘Hey.’ He paused on the stairs, turning to face her. ‘You’re going to be okay now. I know that sounds - I know you’re, like, a pro. And we’re kind of lunatic kids getting ourselves in trouble -’ 

‘Lunatic kids who conducted an unprecedented heist against a highly secure location -’ 

‘There is that. We’re not complete amateurs. We’ve got even _half_ a clue of what we’re doing. So you’re going to be okay, _and_ we’re going to foil Prometheus Thane’s plans and kick him in the metaphorical balls. Or literal ones.’ 

She had to fight to not look dubious, and carried down the stairs. ‘You’ve had a lot of run-ins with him?’ 

‘Some.’ Scorpius’ lips thinned. ‘He saved me once. And then he got my friends killed. And then he had me at his mercy and let me go - then he threatened to kill _more_ of my friends, and me, with torture thrown in. So we have what you would call a complicated relationship.’ 

_That sounds like Prometheus._

‘You’re chasing the man - and his prize - across Europe, so far. That does sound complicated.’ Lisa paused a heartbeat. A joke would go down well with this one. Humour to keep harsh times at bay. ‘Some people give flowers and leave it at that.’ 

He smirked as they came into the kitchen, the smell of cooking filling up the room before wafting through the window onto the terrace, which was of course bright at this time of the morning. ‘Oh, _ha_. I see being a prisoner hasn’t dulled _your_ edges.’ 

‘What edges?’ That was Albus, turning from the hob, frying pan in hand. ‘Heard you on the stairs. I’m not cooking a big breakfast, considering Rose and Selena aren’t up, so it’s all breads and cold meats and cheeses, but I’ll do some bacon to go with it now, if you want.’ 

‘Going on an adventure with Al,’ said Scorpius as he moved to the spread that was already waiting on the kitchen table, grabbing a tray, ‘is a little like going on an adventure with your mum. Just a lot more muscular.’ 

Albus gave Lisa an apprehensive smile. ‘I mean, if you like all of this - if you want something else I could rustle something else up…’ 

‘This looks fine. Thank you,’ she said, moving to the table. ‘Though I won’t say “no” to some bacon.’ 

‘You don’t offer me whatever I want, Al.’ Scorpius wore an exaggeratedly gloomy expression. ‘Have I lost my place in your heart? We don’t _talk_ like we used to…’ 

Albus quirked an eyebrow at him. ‘I’ll cook you whatever you want,’ he said, ‘if you promise to not give me any details on why you’re setting a tray for _two_.’ 

Scorpius’ grin reached his ears. ‘No worries. Bacon is fine. I’m discreet.’ 

‘I’m not convinced. There’s juice in the fridge that Rose bought. She’ll probably want that,’ Albus said, long-suffering. 

‘You’re a star. A large, friendly, happy star,’ said Scorpius, and put his tray together. 

‘So, you two made up,’ Albus said. 

‘By which you mean, I threw myself wildly at her feet to beg forgiveness and my inimitable charm did the rest? Pretty much. But we’re taking things slow.’ 

Lisa raised an eyebrow. ‘No definition of “slow” I ever heard included sneaking out of her room the morning after to bring her breakfast in bed.’ This would be the key, she could tell. They were still kids. They still didn’t take things seriously. Jokes. Levity. The appearance of companionship. Even if she didn’t know them, she could get away with it under the act of being a bit stunned by all that had happened to them, and they were being welcoming. By the time she’d settled, she would be part of the furniture. Normal. An ally. 

That, and it went against her natural instincts to _not_ make some sort of gibe. She just had to make it a friendly gibe. 

‘There’s a whole world of options within that overlapping-circle-diagram thing for both “slow” and “breakfast” - and anyway I’m a gentleman and couldn’t possibly comment.’ 

‘That, and I really don’t want to know,’ Albus repeated. 

‘Then you’d better give me bacon,’ said Scorpius with an impish smirk, sidling up to him with a tray already bedecked with breakfast, and he swanned off to the stairs when hot food was acquired. Lisa could hear him whistling a jaunty tune up the stairs. 

‘He’s something of a character,’ she said, reaching for the coffee that also sat on the table. She had to agree with the boy, though - this was the most domesticated international hunt she’d ever seen. 

‘I’m sorry about him,’ said Albus, depositing the remaining bacon onto a plate in the middle of the table. Then he killed the hob, tugged off his apron, and pulled up a chair to sit opposite her. ‘Boundaries and him were never great friends.’ 

‘It’s not unwelcome.’ She had no idea what Prometheus saw in the boy. ‘It’s a normalcy rather rare in this line of work. Not that it’s a line of work for you…’ 

‘It’s more of a lifestyle. School’s out until September, the whole year’s been written off thanks to Phlegethon. We just meant to get away for a little bit and then… stumbled across all of this.’ 

‘You weren’t hunting Thane?’ 

‘Not at first.’ He dug into his breakfast with gusto. ‘But when we found his trail - I don’t know, I guess we feel responsible for what he did. We tangled with him the most, some of us face-to-face.’ 

‘Did you?’ 

‘No - no, I’ve never met the man. Unless you catch that frantic glimpse across a crowded casino floor.’ 

It struck her as odd that he hadn’t; that Scorpius Malfoy, with his silly jokes and silly smile, was the one who had thwarted Prometheus Thane. ‘I’ve said this before, but that was an impressive operation.’ 

‘It helped to have an Invisibility Cloak,’ said Albus, expression bashful. 

‘Perhaps, but it’s never been done before. I believe.’ It hadn’t. And they hadn’t even been able to make the security easier to bypass, because neither Maisson nor Raskoph would have accepted the plan. Thane had assured them the children were resourceful, though, and he’d been proved right. Possibly more right than he’d ever imagined. ‘You should be proud of that.’ 

‘What, breaking into a casino and stealing a whole lot of money?’ 

‘Breaking into _that_ casino.’ She wasn’t accustomed to this humility. Everyone she worked with either bragged or possessed the quiet self-confidence that required no bragging. But it didn’t do to be a self-effacing mercenary. You didn’t want to be underestimated. ‘It doesn’t matter if you had a trick up your sleeve; every great person had a trick up their sleeve. Tricks up your sleeve are how you _win_. Cheat at life, because life will cheat you enough.’ 

He blinked at her. ‘That sounds like it came from a place of bitterness.’ 

_More than I intended._ She forced a wry smile. ‘My life was in one piece until two weeks ago.’ 

Albus nodded, again sheepish. ‘Of course. Sorry.’ Silence reigned as he shovelled in another mouthful of toast. ‘Are you sure there’s nobody we can get in touch with to tell them you’re okay? We can act discreetly, but, family…’ 

‘No - no, it’s better this way.’ 

His gaze dropped briefly. ‘Whoever gave you that locket isn’t going to want to know you’re okay?’ 

_How the fuck did he notice -_   
  
She looked down at the bronze locket around her neck, the one she’d been trying to hide in plain sight, the one which could undo her if they became suspicious about it. Now self-conscious and a little panicked, she wrapped her fingers around it. ‘What about the locket?’ 

‘It’s just a bit bulky for a girl. That’s all. Sorry, if you don’t want to talk about it -’ 

_It_ _’s bulky because there’s a two-way mirror inside, but damn your eyes._ ‘No, I - it’s just a trinket. From a while ago. It doesn’t matter.’ But this was a poor evasion, so she forced a wistful look into her eyes. _Because men always want someone they can save. Look like you need saving, Eva._ ‘But I’m glad they didn’t take it off me. It’s worthless to them, but not me.’ 

He dropped his gaze and stabbed a tomato. ‘Some guy out there’s pretty lucky, then.’ 

‘What? No - no, no.’ _Wrong move, don_ _’t appear taken, that is the_ ** _worst_** _thing you could do._ ‘It’s not like that. It’s from someone who did me a good turn once upon a time. A long time ago. It’s just a memory.’ She looked up at him, and made her smile widen a little bit - like there was that edge of sadness to her which looking at him could hack away. ‘What about you, though? I’d imagine a man like you has some lucky girl back home.’ 

‘Me?’ He looked surprised. ‘Oh - no. It’s - this is going to sound really whiny.’ His expression went wry, self-conscious, and he ran a hand through his short hair. ‘You might not fully grasp what a big deal my dad is back home. And that’s not bragging, he just _is_. And I’m his son. And so - you’d be amazed how many girls - and guys, sometimes - only want to give me the time of day because of my name.’ 

_My heart bleeds for you, little rich famous kid_. But it was a forced thought even to herself, because he sounded so earnest she couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. _I know what it_ _’s like to feel alone and untrusting even in a crowd._ ‘So… _nobody_?’ Her surprise there was, at least, genuine. Good looking young men didn’t struggle with company, in her experience. 

‘I guess not. I’ve got a big family. And I’ve got Scorpius. Though he’s more my brother than my actual brother is, so - he’s family, too.’ He waved a hand. ‘It doesn’t matter - I mean, under the circumstances, there are _way_ bigger things to worry about, no?’ 

‘Your friends don’t seem to agree.’ She nodded at the stairs. ‘Life doesn’t go on in a crisis?’ 

Something shifted in his gaze, something almost defensive. ‘You’re the one asking to remain formally missing, or dead. That sounds like life comes to a halt.’ 

_So you do have fire. Good._ ‘I’ve got work to do. I’m not asking to live.’ It was the truth and yet not, that blurring of lines which made deceptions so believable and yet so dangerous, and she hated the ways it gave him a legitimate doorway in. But her discomfort was irrelevant. Convincing him was all that mattered. 

_You have to look like you need saving._   
  
His defensiveness faded for a thoughtful sadness, and he put his teacup down. ‘I’m sorry. I just want to get through this in one piece, and with all of my friends alive this time.’ 

_Methuselah Jones, the genius who broke all of Prometheus_ _’ hard work. But Lisa Delacroix wouldn’t know about him._ ‘This time?’ 

‘Two people died last time we went head-to-head with Thane. One was a friend of mine, a smart and brave guy who sacrificed himself. The other was just a kid - twelve, thirteen years old; Phlegethon killed him.’ Albus gave an awkward shrug. ‘I want my friends to be happy, and to live. So I’m going to watch their backs. Anything else can come later.’ He got to his feet. ‘Speaking of which, I’m going to see if Selena wants some breakfast, because I think it’s going to be one of those mornings for her.’ 

Lisa frowned. ‘One of those mornings?’ 

His gaze went sad. ‘The first guy? He was her boyfriend. Sometimes, getting up in the morning is an achievement for her. So I’m going to bring her some juice and some pastries and see if that can make it a little bit easier.’ 

‘Do you play the big brother to everyone?’ 

‘If it helps. Sure.’ Then he was gone, trooping up the stairs, and she was left with breakfast and wondering how the blonde girl who looked so poised and controlled could be so busy fighting her demons that getting out of bed was a victory. 

Eva ( _Lisa, damn it_ ) was accustomed to death. She was less accustomed to seeing the ripples it left in its wake. 

Scowling, she poured herself another coffee and headed for the terrace, and was surprised to find she wasn’t the only person out there. Matthias Doyle was sat in the morning sun, tea and breakfast around him, a large, hefty book in his lap. He jerked when she stepped outside, startled out of his reverie, and she lifted a hand. ‘Sorry.’ 

‘What? No, it’s - it’s fine. You’re not interrupting. I was just reading the same page over and over.’ Matt put down his Book and reached for his tea. ‘Good morning. How’re you feeling?’ 

‘Better. Alive. Free. It’ll suffice. What’re you working on?’ _Show an interest in the things they care about._

‘Our next step,’ he said with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. ‘I know you were the Professor’s bodyguard, not his assistant, but I don’t suppose he talked to you about his work?’ 

‘He had a lot of work. On a lot of topics. He was an historian, not a Chalice-of-Emrys-Expert. Or, not _only_ that,’ she said, but went to join him at the table anyway. She had to be careful here. On the one hand, it was in her best interests to help them along, as spying on their success was her whole reason for being here. And it wasn’t as if she couldn’t justify a good chunk of knowledge from her cover story. But she didn’t want to give too much away. 

‘Does the name Reynald de Sablé mean anything to you?’ 

_The name on the tomb in Paris._ It had been with Professor Dresdner’s help that they’d found Guerrier, and then, when they’d got the Chalice, they’d killed the Professor - only to find out it had been a fake. They hadn’t looked into de Sablé as much as they might, other leads dragging them along the path to their dead end. She wondered if Thane was retracing his footsteps like Matt was. 

But if she had nothing helpful to say, she’d play dumb. ‘I’m afraid not.’ 

Matt tapped his finger on the page. ‘He was going to be buried with the Chalice of Emrys in Paris. He had to have been a Templar. But he wasn’t in the tomb, his sarcophagus didn’t _have_ a date of death on it… it _did_ have a date of birth, though, and it seems likely he was alive and around at the time of the fall of the Templars.’ 

‘So you’re looking into the Templars?’ 

‘Yeah. The stories go that the Chalice was with them in the Crusades, that they carried it into battles and used it to keep their people alive. I’m just trying to find some record which would give that tale any credit, or find some trace of de Sablé which might suggest what happened to _him_ … though he could just be a red herring.’ 

‘You think the Chalice never left the Crusader States?’ 

‘It’s possible.’ Matt rubbed his forehead. ‘But first I have to find evidence the Chalice _was_ there in the first place, and - I just don’t know where to look and this is _really_ dumb, incredibly smart people have tried looking for the Chalice of Emrys over the last few hundred years; why on _Earth_ am I going to be the one to do it?’ 

She looked at him - dark hair, pale skin, bags under his grey eyes, worn and weary. ‘You didn’t sleep much.’ 

‘We don’t have time to sleep. I’m the only one of us who _can_ unravel this. I’m the only one who has half a hope of untangling all of these threads and pointing us in the right direction. Though if Professor Dresdner couldn’t…’ 

‘Everyone has to do something first, don’t they? Else nothing would ever get done.’ 

He side-eyed her. ‘That’s a disturbingly chirpy sentiment.’ 

‘I surprise myself sometimes.’ _I_ _’m just trying to give you a fucking boost so you get a lead and this entire undertaking doesn’t prove an enormous waste of my time and mental health._   
  
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘About the Professor.’ 

‘He was an employer. And I liked him. But it wasn’t - thank you.’ She should, she reasoned, appear to have given some of a damn, even if she wasn’t set to be emotionally devastated. ‘I want to find the people who did it. I want to make sure he didn’t die for nothing.’ Her eyes landed on the sword he had placed on the table. ‘And what the hell is that.’ 

‘That’s - oh. I picked it up in Badenheim. It’s a Templar sword, stolen from the crypts in Paris, taken to Badenheim by the Thule Society. _This_ , at least, I have more answers about.’ He got to his feet, eyes lighting up. ‘The Templars - the ones in the know about magic - used to work in pairs, did you know that? One wizard. One knight. This is one of the swords the Laymen - the old term for “Muggle” - wielded.’ 

‘It’s a sword.’ 

‘It’s a _magic_ sword.’ He picked it up, extending the blade before him with a stance she could tell he had to think about. It wasn’t a natural swordsman’s pose; he was still learning. ‘It’s not steel. It’s adamantine.’ 

‘What?’ 

‘Perseus decapitated the Gorgon Medusa with an adamantine sword. Prometheus - the legendary Prometheus - was shackled to his rock by adamantine chains. I didn’t know any of it was left in the world - and I suppose it’s not, it’s supposedly from fallen stars. But, of course, seven hundred years ago… magic was different. The world was different.’ A slow smile tugged at his lips. ‘I thought it had spells woven in it to make it disrupt magic, but, no - the adamantine itself disrupts magic. That makes it a hell of a weapon against wizards and especially against magical creatures. The Templars controlled a supply of it which they found in Greece, and crafted these swords for the knights who worked alongside their wizards.’ 

_And we walked right past the swords on the walls in Badenheim, going straight for the vaults. Damn._ ‘That’s… incredible.’ It was hard to not be genuinely impressed. 

‘Isn’t it? I used it to kill a golem.’ Then his expression fell. ‘Not that this counts for anything if we don’t have a next step.’ 

_So, you_ _’re about as hungry to prove yourself as anyone I met._ ‘You’re just looking at Templar records?’ 

‘No, no. Crusader records, too,’ he said. ‘Muggle and wizarding. I’m covering all of the bases.’ 

‘No, you’re not.’ 

He frowned, indignant. ‘What else is -’ 

‘What about who they were fighting against?’ 

It was like watching a light bulb not just go off in his head, but explode. ‘Of course! Muslim records, advisers in the court of Salah ad-Din - and earlier…’ The sword was tossed with irreverent care onto the table, and he lunged for his book. ‘Book! Give me a list of everything you can access…’ 

Then he was lost, sat back down again, the Book in his lap and studied intently, and she couldn’t help but give a smile as she stood and headed back to the house. He didn’t notice she was gone, but that was fine. If she could help him with a lead, then she was doing her job. 

Not to mention she wasn’t used to making people _grin_. 

Albus had returned when she stepped into the kitchen, sipping a new cup of tea. ‘Matt’s all right? You two seemed to be talking pretty deeply.’ 

‘He’s making progress in his research. Selena’s all right?’ 

‘I knocked, she didn’t answer. So I left the tray by her door. I want to help, not push.’ 

She cocked her head. ‘I meant what I said. You’re taking care of everyone, so it seems.’ 

‘I don’t know. Matt had been staring at that book for an hour without turning a page before you went out there.’ 

‘What’s his problem?’ 

Albus grimaced. ‘Scorpius’ joy is his defeat.’ 

_This is why Prometheus doesn_ _’t stand for relationships in his teams. Way, way too complicated._ ‘I don’t imagine the other two are going to be down any time soon, then, and he’s got reading to do. So.’ She clapped her hands together. ‘I’ve been cooped in for far too long. Show me the island?’ 

He blinked. ‘I don’t really know Kythos...’ 

_I need to get out and I need to get my claws in. And you look like you take care of everyone. I have to be different if this is going to work._ She smiled, making it small, wry. ‘Then let’s take a look.’

* * 

When she woke, she couldn’t tell why. It was dark outside, dark in the bedroom. There was no sound coming from inside the house, no hint of light, no hint of movement. 

It had been a long day. Walking Kythos with Albus, getting his side of the story she already knew, what had happened at Hogwarts with Phlegethon, the quarantine, and everything else up until now. That had been easy, at least. Nod in the right places, make sympathetic sounds on the topics of Tim Warwick and Methuselah Jones, sound impressed at the impressive bits. 

The last part had been easiest of all. She had, Lisa had to concede, underestimated them. But it meant she’d gone to bed tired after the walking, after helping Albus with dinner because he was still the easiest of the five to contend with, after keeping quiet during the meal because she’d been so busy _watching_ them. 

Watching Selena try to act with perfect poise, and only seeing the cracks because she knew to look for them. Her masks were good, and this was from a professional. Watch Scorpius and Rose look supremely pleased with themselves and with one another, and she hadn’t paid too much attention to _that_ because there wasn’t so much as subtext as a blaring neon sign between the lines. The interesting part had been watching Matt try to not grumble into his meal every time the couple smiled at each other, or sometimes even looked at each other. 

If she wanted rifts to exploit in the group it was there - Selena’s weakness, yes, but Matt’s jealousy. She had to find these avenues and, while for now she wanted the group efficient, they also had to fail when she wanted them to fail. She needed fingers on those buttons to make those issues explode on cue. 

But that had been her day, and she’d fallen asleep with satisfaction that her integration was going well, and that the group would make progress, hopefully, with Matt’s advances in his research. As such, she couldn’t imagine why she’d wake of her own accord. Except she hadn’t lived as long as she had in such a dangerous line of work without trusting what her body and her instincts were telling her. 

Then there was a muffled sound from the locket she wore around her neck even in bed, and she knew what had woken her. 

She snapped it open to see the picture of a generically handsome wizard they’d slipped in there, and she slid that back to show the tiny mirror behind it. One of Prometheus thane’s peerless blue eyes shone through at her, and her heart started pounding in her chest. He wasn’t supposed to contact her. It could blow her cover too easily. _She_ was supposed to get in touch with _him_. 

‘Eva?’ His voice was a low, urgent hiss. ‘Are you in the house in Kythos?’ 

Her throat went dry. She hadn’t communicated her location to them yet. It hadn’t been necessary. ‘Yes.’ 

‘Get _out_.’ She had never heard him so tense. ‘Raskoph’s got contacts in Britain; he’s found you, and he wants them _all_ dead. He doesn’t care if you’re collateral, he doesn’t _care_ about our plan. This is the first I could get in touch - he’s got men en route to your location to set up Fiendfyre delayed blast rituals all around the house, and they’re probably there by now - get _out_!’ 

She was on her feet in a heartbeat, her wand - the wand she’d taken off the security guard in the Rabbit’s Foot, anyway, which was the best she could do under the circumstances - in hand and the locket already snapped shut. The corridor was dark and silent as she thundered out of the room, but it wouldn’t be this way for long. Prometheus wouldn’t lie to her, wouldn’t warn her if he didn’t mean it, so she drew a deep breath. ‘Wake up! We have to get out of here!’ 

Her fist thudded first on the door opposite, Rose and Scorpius’ room, before she was tearing down the corridor, still hollering and pounding on each door as she went. ‘They know where we are, they’re _here_ \- we have to get up and _out_!’ 

_How the hell am I going to explain this?_   
  
Eventually a door opened - Albus’, the last she’d come to. He had to have been roused by her shouting, because she didn’t even need to knock. He had his wand in hand, and his eyes were alert. ‘Are you - Lisa! Look at me. What’s going on?’ 

There was worry, yes, but a hint of concern about him, almost indulgent, and her heart sunk. _Oh, no, he thinks you_ _’re having a traumatised nightmare_. She grabbed his wrist. ‘ _Trust_ me. We need to get out of here.’ 

‘What’s -’ 

Then the far end of the corridor - where the stairway was, three metres past her door, five metres past where Selena, Rose and Scorpius had stumbled to sleepily to see what the commotion was - exploded into green, furious Fiendfyre. 

Selena screamed and fell back, which Lisa had to concede was a reasonable reaction, but the burst of emerald flames merely shook all fatigue from Albus’ eyes. ‘Gather up!’ he bellowed - and started to go _towards_ the fire. 

‘Are you _crazy_?’ Selena snapped, but the five of them huddled - five, five, where was Doyle? 

‘First blast was that end of the corridor,’ said Albus, wand pointed at the floorboards. ‘Second one will pen us in. We don’t want to be next to it.’ 

The next two blasts came at once. Only one of them was Fiendfyre and it was, as Albus had predicted, from the other end of the corridor to the first, near enough to his bedroom to be fatal if he’d still been in it. The second was from his wand and, as Lisa grabbed him when she realised what was going on, it blew out the floorboards from under them. 

She was yelling a spell at the same time as Rose, a levitating charm to make their descent to the ground floor a controlled tumble instead of a dead drop. Green fire was lunging at them, tearing along the walls, its heat licking their faces. They erupted into the downstairs corridor, landing in a hail of plaster and splinters and searing heat, right in front of the bewildered and terrified form of Matt. 

He’d still been up, reading in the kitchen he’d just burst out of, and now clutched Book, sword, and wand like they were life-lines. She had to concede that they probably were. ‘What the _bloody hell_ is going on?’ 

Hysteria tugged at his voice, but Albus just grabbed him by the shoulder. ‘Matt, get a grip, we’re getting _out_ -’ 

‘We can’t take the front door,’ Lisa said flatly. ‘Is there a cellar?’ 

Matt’s breath caught, and for a moment Lisa thought he was too lost to panic to be of use - then something set in his eyes and he nodded, leading them deeper into the corridor where green fire licked overhead. ‘This way!’ 

He made it to the top of the cellar stairs when the front door exploded with Fiendfyre. Which was just as well, Lisa judged; if they’d gone that way, they would have been right on top of it by now. She suspected it would be timed or triggered explicitly to trap them or, even better, catch them in it had they somehow escaped the initial blasts. 

‘This won’t shelter us from Fiendfyre for long!’ she called out as Matt led them thudding down the stone steps into the cool, cold, dark cellar. ‘It’ll burn through rock just as sure as wood!’ 

‘We need to get out of here,’ growled Albus. ‘Rose, can you apparate us out?’ 

‘This island’s _unplottable_ -’ 

‘That’s not a “no”!’ 

‘It’s unplottable and I don’t _know_ anywhere in range! We’ll get splinched to hell and back!’ 

‘Maybe,’ said Lisa as they reached the small cellar, devoid of escape routes. Its only virtue was that Fiendfyre would reach it _last_. ‘But if you don’t, we die.’ 

Rose’s eyes were wide as they locked on Lisa, and she met the younger girl’s gaze, pitiless and unsympathetic. Now was not time for coddling. Besides, pressure sometimes made people excel, and right then they _needed_ excellence. Her jaw set. ‘Right,’ said Rose, and reached to take Scorpius’ hand like it would anchor her to sense and reason. ‘Gather up, and… pray.’ They piled up together, hands on each others’ shoulders, and Rose lifted her wand to swish it through the air. 

But the sense of magic trying to yank them whipping through space came half a heartbeat after Fiendfyre erupted down from the ceiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Obviously I’m making some judgements for myself regarding magic, but the key things come in the conversation of Lisa and Matt. Salah ad-Din, for those not familiar, is Saladin, the first Sultan of Egypt and the leader of the Muslim forces against the Christians of the Third Crusade in the Levant. Full name Salā_ _ḥ_ _ad-Dīn Yūsuf ibn Ayyūb, but Westernised as Saladin._   
>    
> _Adamantine is one of those commonly-used fictional metals, but I’m drawing most of all on its mythological depictions. Greek, and the incidents mentioned by Matt above, more than its references in Paradise Lost - which depicts the armour of fallen angels as being made of the stuff. Which is an amusing coincidence considering I’ve drawn a bit on Paradise Lost (though more Dante Alighieri and Greek mythology) for the presence of Hell/Hades. But I digress._   
>    
> _On with the show, I guess, from here!_


	24. A Snake Lies in the Grass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This chapter's in an odd place, considering the fics from which the POV character is from haven't actually made it to this archive. Hrm. Oh well._
> 
> _Simply put: This chapter is almost a 'half-chapter' (despite being huge; I didn't want to split it. 'Interlude' might be a better word). Some people may find it fun and exciting. Others may not. It will flesh out the world of Starfall, it will flesh out background characters, canon and non-canon, who have varying degrees of relevance to the main plot and the protagonists. If it is not to your taste, then this is not going to be a common feature of the story, and I believe you could even skip this chapter as the next will return to our protagonists and catch up on the action._
> 
> _If you're mad keen to know what the hell is going on (honestly, if you're confused - skip it) then I suggest you locate my 'Anguis' series on other archives. Until I get around to uploading it here._

‘The bastards burned my house.’ 

His leg had good days and bad ones. On the good, it was like he’d never been maimed. He could potter about without a walking aid and there wasn’t even a twinge if he didn’t run, didn’t bend, didn’t go too far. On the bad, he relied heavily on the hefty walking stick to move about, his leg aching with every step. It had tormented him these past twenty-five years; there was rarely a photograph taken where he was standing straight, flights of stairs were the enemy, and active play with his children was something which left him struggling for days after. But the scar left by dark magic had never pounded more painfully than it did as he looked from the smoldering, smoking ashes of the village on Kythos’ shore, to the devastated wreckage of the house. 

‘I’m sorry, mate.’ Cal Brynmor grasped his shoulder. 

He shook his head, leaned on his cane, and limped to the woman stood before the ruins. ‘You don’t need to be here, Jen.’ He’d come here to work. And, in his own way, to grieve. He should have expected others, and was relieved the numbers were low. But it was still a situation he had no idea how to handle. Did anyone know how to handle this? 

Jennifer Doyle had been stood for the past five minutes staring at the smoking remains of the house where her son and his companions had been lying low. Only when he stepped up beside her did she move, pale face turning towards him, grey eyes - that same grey as her son’s - blank. ‘I wanted to see for myself, Toby.’ 

Tobias Grey gave a slow exhale. ‘The Ministry went over the place with a fine tooth-comb this morning. Nothing’s here.’ 

‘Not even remains.’ 

‘Traces of them, but then, they lived here a few days, that would be normal. Fiendfyre doesn’t… it doesn’t leave much behind. There’s only rubble because this building was - we had it reinforced -’ His breath caught. _It wasn_ _’t enough, was it?_ ‘I’m sorry, Jen, I - I thought they’d be safe here, when Matt got in touch -’ 

She reached out to take his hand, and he had to marvel at how _she_ was giving _him_ comfort when it was her son who’d died in the bolt-hole he’d provided. ‘I doubt the location was the problem. We all read the missive. And I know you, I know you’re careful. I know you’re not the one who betrayed them.’ 

‘Someone did. Someone told the Council. I didn’t tell a soul, but I’m going to find out who.’ 

There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of Cal shuffling about behind them. The big man had come to him first, knowing that Tobias would travel out here. He’d been red-eyed and sore, at a stage of grief Tobias couldn’t feel. He was too numb. Was it worse because Cal had never had children? Without his own family he’d been a part of all of theirs, the one to teach Sophie and Rob their love of Quidditch, the exuberant uncle for all of them. Which had him thinking of his own children, and he had to slam his eyes shut against the wave of emotions. He’d always been close to Matt, three years older than his eldest, and it was worse with the recent memories of his son and daughter trapped and suffering in Hogwarts. He’d been confronted for so long with the fear of losing them that he could understand the raw edge of Jen’s grief, and he wanted to be hundreds of miles away from it, because he had nothing to say. 

But he wasn’t here for what he wanted. He was here to work. And so he slipped his hand from Jen’s, reached to his pocket to pull out his trusty notebook, and started to write. 

It was another ten minutes before there was sound again as he wrote everything he could see, hear, smell - as if this moment wasn’t going to be entrenched in his memory. He’d hidden from Voldemort’s loyalists in this house in the war. He’d hoped, believed, that what kept him safe would keep Matt and his friends safe. Until they’d read the missive, until they’d had word from the survivors of the village… 

‘Eighty-two,’ came a clear voice from the path onto the patio, and his gaze snapped around at the arrival of Nat Lockett. 

‘ _Eighty-two_?’ 

Cal looked over. ‘What?’ 

‘Survivors.’ Nat wore no expression. ‘Eighty-two survivors down in the village. Out of about three hundred.’ 

Tobias’ knuckles went white as he gripped his quill. And then he wrote that down. 

‘Reports are saying they saw the Fiendfyre go off up here, saw the house engulfed - and that’s when it started down there. Masked figures going from house to house, setting it off. And it spread, of course.’ Nat’s voice was cold and flat as she joined them at the ruins. ‘There’s nothing left down here.’ 

‘ _“There were those who sheltered them. They will be punished just the same,”_ ’ Jen recited. 

‘Yeah, speaking of that, you’re not actually _publishing_ this Raskoph guy’s missive, are you?’ Nat turned on Tobias. 

It had taken more than a report from the isle of Kythos to let them know something was wrong. Just as the Council of Thorns had announced their existence with a deluge of pamphlets and notices hammered to walls and dumped at public sites without warning, and an efficiency which impressed former resistance writer and distributor Tobias Grey, they had announced their strike on Kythos openly. 

They were one-page sheets, written with the same flare for dramatics, an announcement from this Colonel Raskoph. Britain was not safe, Britain was not secure, and there were those in its Ministry who knew the Council of Thorns were the only way forward for the world. Someone had known where the Five were, someone had told Raskoph, and by the time the missive was out, it said, everyone who had wronged the Council in Monte Carlo would be dead. As would anyone who had helped them, sheltered them. And that if anyone else wanted to stand against the might of the Council of Thorns, they could expect the same fate. 

Technically, Tobias himself had helped the Hogwarts Five - as the public had suddenly taken to referring to them - and was still alive. It was only a small comfort under the circumstances. He grimaced at Nat. ‘I can’t ignore it -’ 

‘So you’re going to give that lunatic public coverage? Free publicity -’ 

‘It’s _news_ , Nat -’ 

‘It’s not news, _Grey_ , it’s rantings and threats of a madman who wants to scare people who might stand against him. It’s a lunatic _crowing_ about his victory, a lunatic pointing out the Ministry _isn_ _’t secure_ , and I _cannot_ believe you’re happy to publicise that kind of -’ 

‘I don’t have a choice _but_ to publicise it, it’s _everywhere_ , all of my competitors are going to -’ 

‘So that’s what this is about? Selling papers, because if you don’t write about it, your competitors are going to make more money off this tragedy?’ 

He’d felt cold and flat and hollow inside when he heard. Now he felt something at her angry grief, and it was his own rage. ‘You _know_ I can write about this and tell the _right_ story, put it in the right context, let people know the truth without fanning the flames of fear -’ 

‘You mean spinning it?’ 

‘How dare you - I know the others matter to you, but _Matt_ matters to _me_ \- and _he_ might not matter to you that much, seeing as you don’t know him, seeing as you’ve not been _around_ the last twenty years -’ 

It was a low, low blow, to grab the fact that she’d disappeared on his best friend and twist it against her, throw it in her face. It was beneath him because he knew it was more complicated than that, it was beneath him because it had nothing to do with what was going on, and it was beneath him because this was, after all, the woman who’d produced the cure for Phlegethon and saved his children. 

‘ _Hey_!’ That was Cal, stepping up between them and planting big hands on their shoulders. ‘That’s enough! From both of you!’ 

And then shame and grief surged past the numbness and the anger, and Tobias’ leg throbbed. He looked away, looked at the smoldering remains of the house, looked at Jen - who’d barely reacted to the shouting match, shielded from it by her own pain. ‘You’re right,’ he said, voice hoarse. ‘I’m sorry.’ 

Nat bowed her head, and Cal slipped his arm around her. ‘Me too. I - you should write about it, Toby. I trust you to get this right. Someone has to.’ 

His lips thinned. ‘Are you going to hit me if I ask for a quote?’ 

But his voice was light, self-effacing, and the laugh she gave was not insincere - but it was hollow. Tobias saw Cal’s grip on her tighten. ‘What the fuck am I supposed to say, Toby? They’re dead. I - I lost them, I failed Jones and he died, and now they’re all -’ It was too much, though, and she tore away, out of Cal’s grip and across the terrace. But not before calling over her shoulder, ‘They were half my age and twice as good as me at Hogwarts. Write _that_ , Toby.’ 

Cal gave him an apologetic look and tore after his fiancée, leaving him with Jen. She didn’t say anything for a while, hadn’t reacted to the row. When she did, her voice was the quietest and smallest he’d ever heard it. Of all of his friends, she was the one who’d probably fought the most and suffered the most and lost the most in the war, and yet he’d never seen her dragged down like this, beaten like this. 

‘Is it wrong of me to be bitter that the world will talk about what the four did at Hogwarts, and then my son will be tacked on as an afterthought?’ 

He sighed. ‘I don’t think anything you’re feeling can be wrong. And that won’t be the case in my article. That won’t be the case in my paper. If nothing else, hundreds of people have died here. The _Prophet_ will want to focus on the deaths of heroes and children of heroes. I, for one, owe it to the people of this island to be remembered. And I want your son to be remembered.’ 

‘He looked up to you, you know? You were one of _his_ heroes.’ Breath caught in Tobias’ throat, blocking any possible response, but Jen had turned away before he could clear it. ‘You should go,’ she continued. ‘“ _The Doyle family thanks the public for their sympathies and asks for privacy in this difficult time_ ”. That’s your quote. I want the _Clarion_ talking about this. The _Prophet_ are just going to publish Raskoph’s release in its entirety.’ 

‘Will you be okay?’ 

It was a stupid question, but she knew what he meant. ‘Nat and Cal are here. I won’t go without them.’ 

‘Sophie’s still at ours with Rob. We can take her tonight if you want.’ 

‘No, I - I’ll be over later and pick her up.’ There was a raw edge at her voice, and he understood. He wouldn’t want to be away from his children overnight after this, either. He could barely stand it after Phlegethon, and was relieved Robert and Aurora were too young to resist being kept close to home. ‘You go, Toby. You’ve got work to do.’ 

He slipped his notebook and quill away, and reached to squeeze her shoulder. ‘I’ll look in on Gabe when I get back. You know where to find me.’ 

She didn’t answer and so he left, down the path away from the smoldering wreckage of house and village, to the field where the Greek and British magical governments had set up their aid stations. It was the hub of investigation and support for the tragedy and it was where he could get a portkey home. They knew him. The British Ministry officials recognised him - he’d been in touch from the get-go, he had to be, he technically owned the damned wreckage - and he’d spent enough time here the people of Kythos recognised him. He still didn’t look at them. He had to leave. He had work to do. The press would be buzzing with this. An evening edition would have to go out, and the _Prophet_ had not, in his eyes, improved much over the last quarter-century. If the right message was going to go out, he had to deliver it himself, had to use the _Clarion_ to do it. This sort of situation was why he’d left politics to return to journalism. He had to get the right words out. Talk to the right people. 

The first person would be easy enough to see, because the portkey took him to the Department of International Magical Cooperation. He knew these corridors, knew these offices. Could work his way up from the chambers and onto the main floors, the desks buzzing with activity after this incident of international terrorism, the most violent onslaught and loss of life from the Council of Thorns yet. Technically he wasn’t supposed to be up here. But there were so many people rushing by, frantic and busy that one more person in the DIMC wasn’t noticed. He had a notebook, he looked like he knew what he was doing, and if anyone recognised him as he made his way for Lillian Rourke’s door, they didn’t stop him. 

After all, it had once been _his_ office. 

But confidence left his limp when he slipped inside. Lillian Rourke stood with her back to him, long golden hair falling to shroud her posture, focus fixed on the enchanted window behind her desk. He drew an awkward breath. ‘It’s Tobias,’ he said. ‘I was wondering if you had a minute -’ 

‘What’re my poll numbers?’ 

Tobias blinked. ‘What?’ 

Lillian turned. Her eyes were red and her voice quiet, but the raw edge had been sawed out for nothing but a cold flatness. ‘For the election.’ 

‘I haven’t -’ 

‘Don’t lie to me, Toby, we’re both professionals. You put a poll in the field the moment this happened. Because if you didn’t, someone else would. It’s a great justification for how you’re not as much of a vulture as the others.’ 

‘I don’t know about that,’ he said. ‘I’m just, perhaps, the vulture people talk to.’ But he didn’t need to check his notes. ‘You’re up ten points. I don’t anticipate that going down. You’ll win the election.’ 

Lillian looked away, her expression still flat. It wasn’t the emptiness of Jen, trying to find her reaction. The grief had been torn out and shoved away and something else put in its place. It looked, to him, like professionalism, and the guilt which went with it. ‘Why do we do these things, Tobias?’ 

‘Work?’ He didn’t know Lillian Rourke verywell. She’d been a few years below him in Slytherin House, one of the bright new sparks taken in the DIMC after the war, when the Ministry had been gutted and in dire need of fresh blood. He’d taken a close interest in the DIMC even when he’d left, and any rising stars within it. She’d been one of the best. And she knew how to handle PR well enough that she talked to him more than most departments did. 

‘Power. Responsibility. We gain these things because we think we can make the world a better place. But what’s the cost?’ 

‘This wasn’t _you_ -’ 

‘My daughter went on what was _evidently_ not a holiday, and I didn’t know because my focus has been _here_.’ Her voice shuddered at the emphasis, and she planted her palm on the desk. ‘DIMC. The International Convocation. The -’ 

‘You can use this - the power, I mean, your position - to make sure that the International Convocation stops _pissing_ around with the Council of Thorns. Make them move against Brazil, make them move against this Raskoph.’ He hesitated. ‘And if you don’t want to do this any more, nobody will judge you or criticise -’ 

‘I would judge _myself_. I got myself here, into all of this…’ Lillian’s perfect nose wrinkled. ‘Can you sit on Kenneth if he decides he wants to make some public statements?’ 

‘He won’t want to talk to me,’ Tobias said. He’d dealt with Lillian’s estranged husband during the Phlegethon crisis. ‘I have this unfortunate habit of quoting him in his entirety.’ 

She nodded. Once, she would have smiled. ‘You knew they were up to something.’ 

‘Selena and the others?’ Tobias flinched. ‘I arranged the house for Matt Doyle, yes. I knew they were doing _something_. I was assured Hermione Granger knew what was going on and so I didn’t ask too many questions. I trusted him.’ 

‘Granger.’ A pause. ‘Somebody talked to the Council.’ 

_Now_ he frowned. ‘I don’t think Hermione Granger sold out her own family -’ 

‘No. But who in the task force knew where they were? She can’t keep everything quiet, not when she’s organising portkeys and funding and support. _Somebody_ told Raskoph. Even I didn’t know where they were. Who did you tell?’ 

‘Nobody, I just had the house opened up for visitors. I suppose somebody in Kythos might have put two-and-two together -’ 

‘Do you really believe that?’ 

Tobias sighed. ‘No. No, I don’t. But I assure you, Lillian, I was just as careful now as I was during the war. And it took them a long time to find me in the war.’ 

‘Which makes it more likely that Raskoph was telling the truth when he said it was someone in the Ministry, and that makes it likely the leak came from Granger’s task force.’ 

‘This is sounding a little paranoid -’ 

Lillian lifted her head. ‘We’re dealing with a group who plagued Hogwarts, proved they could infiltrate and bring down the Brazilian government, have designed multiple illnesses and released them in different parts of the globe, and now have wiped out an _entire_ magical community with Fiendfyre in an assault the like of which we’ve not seen in a quarter-century. I think it’s time to be paranoid.’ 

‘She screens all of her people thoroughly.’ 

‘Then who do they talk to? And who do the kids talk to? Do you really think Gabriel Doyle didn’t know _exactly_ where his son was? Do you really think _Draco Malfoy_ wasn’t keeping track of _his_ son? You can trust them - well. You trust Doyle. Can you trust everyone they trust?’ 

Tobias nudged his glasses further up his crooked nose. ‘I’ll ask around.’ 

‘That’s all I ask.’ Lillian drew a deep breath. ‘“ _The world has been reminded of the villainy of the Council of Thorns. Nobody can deny the danger or feel unaffected. But this is not a time to point fingers. This is a time for us to unite against evil._ ” Will that do?’ 

He let the quill do its work. ‘It’ll do if you say it’ll do, Lillian.’ He hesitated. ‘I imagine you’re past the days of the Convocation accusing you of reacting hysterically because of British post-war paranoia of Dark Wizards.’ 

‘I’m sure I’ll be accused of reacting hysterically because I’m personally affected, instead.’ 

He winced. ‘Are you sure you -’ 

‘I will do my job. And I will win this election. And I will chair the International Convocation to something better and greater to keep the world safe.’ Lillian’s lips thinned. ‘Or this was all for nothing.’ Then she looked at him, and it was time to go. 

‘Then I’ll let you get back to work.’ 

His next stop was the Department of Magical Law Enforcement - and that was where he had an irate row with a secretary he didn’t recognise. Normally, he was familiar enough with Hermione Granger’s staff to work them, but this staffer was new and incredibly tense, and the argument lasted until someone he knew passed by and said she wasn’t in her office anyway. So he gave up on the deflated secretary. He had a lead on the Granger-Weasley extended brood, but there was somewhere to go first. It took a quick apparition to a different corner of London, to a residential street, to a tall, white, Georgian house he’d visited countless times but had never looked so gloomy to him. 

Which was ridiculous. The Doyle house itself had no reason to look gloomy. He was projecting his own feelings upon it, and so Tobias steeled himself, limped up the steps, and gave only a perfunctory knock before he let himself in. The wards here would recognise him, allow him access, and he suspected that if he waited at the door for a knock to be answered he’d be there for hours. He’d spoken to Jen. He had the official statement from the family. This trip wasn’t work, not really. But he was damned if he wouldn’t make time in his schedule for one of his oldest friends. 

Gabriel kept his office on the first floor, a huge study with wood-panelled walls, a heaving library, a hefty oak desk dominating the room. The wall was lined with clocks showing the times across wherever in the world he kept his business interests, the communication orb on the desk gleamed with messages waiting to be heard, but the man himself sat in his chair, gaze fixed on a blank spot on the wall. Even when Tobias nudged his way inside, he didn’t react. 

‘Gabe.’ 

Gabriel Doyle didn’t move. He’d known Tobias was there, he realised - he just hadn’t cared. ‘Toby.’ 

‘I…’ Anything to say sounded stupid. ‘I’ve spoken to Jen. She’s got - the official things are in hand.’ 

Gabriel cleared his throat at last, blinking focus into his gaze as he looked at him. ‘Of course they are. How’s the article going?’ 

‘I’m…’ Tobias limped to the chair across the desk. ‘I’ve spoken to Nat, and Lillian Rourke too. Weasleys are next.’ 

‘Good luck with that.’ His emptiness wasn’t the tight control of Jen, nor was it the hollowness of Lillian’s which came only from hacking grief forcibly out. His face was just blank, gone. 

Tobias sat down slowly. ‘I’m… I’m so sorry. I loved Matt, you know I did, I -’ 

‘Who’s Raskoph? Who told him where to find Matt?’ 

He flinched. ‘I don’t know yet.’ 

‘Find out. Or, I’ll find out.’ Gabriel reached for a quill and scribbled something down. ‘ _Find Raskoph. Kill slowly_. Good to-do list, don’t you think?’ 

‘The Council of Thorns are - Gabe, don’t do anything stupid.’ 

‘What, like turn the _extensive_ resources at my disposal to _destroying_ the man who murdered my son? That sounds logical to me.’ 

‘Take your time -’ 

Gabriel snatched the glowing communication orb and hurled it at the wall, where it shattered as thoroughly as all control and emptiness. ‘And _what_?’ he roared, lunging to his feet. ‘Continue to feed information to people who do _nothing_? Continue to be nothing more than the man in the shadows _watching_? They almost killed my children before and I did nothing - _nothing_!’ 

Tobias went to stand, but his leg wouldn’t support him. ‘Lillian Rourke’s going to win the election. Help _her_. She can use the Convocation -’ 

‘The Convocation are limited by international law. _I_ _’m not_ ,’ sneered Gabriel. ‘I’ve spent the last quarter-century getting my contacts together; everywhere on the globe where people will talk magic, they’ll talk to me or my people. If the Council of Thorns think that they can _breathe_ without me hearing about it -’ 

‘They don’t _care_ that you’ll hear, Gabe, because you’ll do something and then they will kill you.’ 

‘My son is _dead_ \- do you think I _care_ -’ 

‘Yes!’ Tobias pushed himself with a grunt to his feet at last. ‘Because your wife is not! Your daughters are not! Get justice for Matt, find this leak in the Ministry, use your resources to help the Convocation bring the Council of Thorns down - don’t throw yourself on some vengeful spree which will _get you killed_ and who the _hell_ is going to take care of Jen then?’ 

Colour drained from Gabriel’s face. Time had not taken the sharpness from his features, softened any edge of the smoldering, dark eyes. But in the seconds where Tobias’ words echoed about the room it was as if he’d aged another hundred years, no longer standing tall and furious but shrinking, subdued, beaten. Broken. 

He collapsed onto his chair, burying his face in his hands. ‘…I don’t take care of Jen, she takes care of me - oh, _God_ , Toby, that was _my son_ …’ 

Tobias limped around the desk to perch on the edge of it, resting his hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘I know. I’m so sorry. And I’m going to make sure that people know what happened, make sure that people know who the enemy is, make sure that Raskoph can’t show his face across the globe without being recognised and hated…’ _For what little good my pissy little paper can do._   
  
Gabriel drew a slow, shuddering breath. ‘I’m a Seer. You’re the smartest man I know. How the hell couldn’t we stop this?’ 

_I have no idea how to answer that._

Tobias left soon after, left Gabriel on his own with just his grief for company. He would have been worried if he didn’t trust that Gabriel Doyle thrived on solitude. And despite the ache in his heart mirroring the throbbing in his leg, he had other places to be. 

While the Department of Magical Law Enforcement kept its main administrative offices in the Ministry of Magic proper, all the better to coordinate with other departments, there were everyday activities which needed their own space. As such it was not in the Ministry where the beating heart of the MLE sat, but in what looked like a run-down old office building on Canary Wharf - which on the inside was perhaps the most sophisticated and secure building in the whole of Britain. Tobias could make it to the bull-pen of the Auror section once checked in, and found the elite of the country like headless chickens - with one strong, loud voice at the centre. 

‘I’ve given you all jobs! Now bloody get to them! And who let the press in here!’ Tobias kept his expression level as the Aurors scattered and the speaker crossed the office. ‘I have no official statements for the _Clarion_ , Mister Grey.’ 

‘That’s fine, Captain Cole, I wasn’t looking for you officially.’ His voice softened as he looked at the Head of the Aurors’ Investigation Division. ‘Just unofficially.’ 

Then she wasn’t the firm figure holding the Aurors in check, she was his wife stepping forward to pull him into a close, desperate hug that drew on as much comfort as it gave. ‘How’s Jen?’ Tanith Cole asked. 

‘Broken. She’s with Nat and Cal in Kythos. He’ll make sure they _both_ get home. Gabe’s at home. I talked to Lillian Rourke, too, and she’s just - soldiering on. Hermione’s not in her office, though…’ 

‘I’ve spoken to her; she had to give a statement after you gave yours earlier.’ 

‘Any leads on her office? Smart money’s saying that’s where the leak came from. Not her, but someone close to her.’ 

Tanith’s lips thinned, and she looked away. ‘I can’t possibly talk about ongoing investigations.’ She exhaled. ‘So, between you and me, we’ve got her secretary in an interrogation room after we found a tracing coal in the Floo in Granger’s office.’ 

Tobias’ expression fell. ‘That’d be why I didn’t recognise her staffers, why they’re on full alert. You think the Council got someone _that_ close to Hermione Granger in with them?’ 

‘I do. She used her Patronus charm to talk to them on Kythos, but a long-distance communication like that required a partial projection by Floo to get international. A tracer coal would track the destination point, and the secretary’s the only person with reasonable access and opportunity to breach her office’s security like that. We’re just waiting on the Veritaserum to confirm.’ 

‘Veritaserum - Jesus - _how_ -’ Normally they should never have been able to utilise such on this evidence. 

Tanith’s face had set to something cold and blank. ‘Word from the Minister. We’re in a State of Emergency right now. Veritaserum is back in my arsenal.’ 

‘You have to find out if the secretary was under Imperius or -’ 

‘I know how to do my job, Toby. And I _will_ bring a Legilimens in if needs be.’ 

He looked her in the eye and saw nothing but cold conviction. His gut twisted, instincts screaming at the developments - that in a time of crisis they broke their own rules and had the law say it was all right. That in a time of crisis _she_ broke her own rules, she who had never used Legilimency even when it had been permissible. ‘You need to be careful,’ he said. 

‘What I _need_ is to find who the leak in the Ministry is, to find out how they were recruited by the Council, and to find if there are others.’ 

‘By any means possible? What is this, _Inter arma enim silent leges_?’ She looked blank. ‘Cicero. “ _In times of war, the law falls silent_.”’ 

‘No,’ said Tanith, voice flat. ‘Because _I_ _’m_ the law, and I am not silent. And don’t give me your righteousness, Toby; I’m telling you as a courtesy. I’m telling you so I don’t go mad with this. You don’t write a damned _word_ about this until I’m ready to make my press release.’ 

They were talking as husband and wife, a reprieve in a crisis. Not Auror and Editor. They’d done this a lot over the years; talked about their work because they needed to talk about it and otherwise left their jobs at the door, because otherwise a marriage was never going to last. Never before had she used information he’d found. Never before had he used her as a source. And just for a heartbeat he thought about breaking that habit. 

She wasn’t the only one who was contemplating breaking the rules in a crisis. So he closed his eyes, let his breath out, and focused on why he was here. The story he could write - not to get on the government’s back about how they were handling the situation. That came later. ‘You’ve said “I” a lot - what does Potter have to say about this? Or is he championing the notion of burning them all?’ 

Tanith drew back, dark eyes tired. ‘I don’t know where the boss is. Or Weasley. And that’s the honest truth.’ 

‘It’s just been you holding down the fort?’ 

‘I’m qualified for this.’ Her mouth twisted bitterly. He remembered her anger when Potter had made Head of the Aurors. It had been a blow to the ego to lose out to a man she’d trained. But though this had caused a rift, Tobias knew even if she was lying, he’d never know and she wouldn’t change her tune. The Aurors had one another’s backs in a crisis. 

And this was the crisis to end all crises. 

‘They’re not at home,’ Tanith continued. ‘We’ve got the Potter house locked down tight, the Weasley - well, the Weasley-Granger home - is empty. We’ve got all the _other_ Weasley homes locked down, too, and they’re not _there_. So what I really need in a time of chaos is worrying if my boss and his partner have run off on some international rampage of vengeance.’ 

‘Have you asked Ginny Potter?’ 

She stopped. ‘I’m a professional, you know.’ 

‘That’s a “no”.’ 

‘She was crying. A lot. It was awkward. And I’ve had this investigation here.’ She bit her lip. ‘I assume you want to speak to one of them.’ 

‘I have to - I hate this, but the world’s going to reach its own conclusions about what happened. I have to make sure the people who have a right to speak are heard. Instead of those who don’t know a damn thing clamouring for attention, trying to turn this into something it’s not. The kids are going to be martyred, and while they deserve that, they’re - they were _kids_ , damn it, people -’ He’d been through three parents who’d lost and it was already three too many, and he didn’t care that he stood in the middle of the Auror Department with his voice tumbling and creaking as he fought for composure. 

She caught his hand, touch gentle, reassuring. ‘I know. I trust you. So do they, you know? You’ve done this for years, your reputation opens doors.’ 

He managed a tight smile. ‘You’re not going to give me an exclusive on the inside of the Auror Department?’ They’d done this dance a thousand times before, and by now it was a joke. 

‘Like hell I am. But I _will_ take you to Ginny Potter. If she doesn’t want to talk to you, I don’t hear an “if” or a “but”. You are out of there.’ 

‘That’s more than I can ask.’ 

She led him down the corridors to the Apparition Chambers, and he let her take the lead on magically transporting them across the country, not quite trusting the ache starting in his chest to not distract him from doing it himself. And they appeared at the edge of a storm. 

The Potter house in Godric’s Hollow was well-known. It was inevitable that journalists would come and pester the family, but it had not been bad for years, and the Auror Department tended to let people fall down stairs if they pushed beyond the expected rudeness of the press. Even in the middle of the Phlegethon Crisis, when Albus Potter had been centre-stage of the disaster at Hogwarts, there had been enough to occupy the British media that they could be penned off and held back. But now the story was right back on the Potter family, and there was precious little else for them to pay attention to. _And_ the situation had gone international. 

He had _never_ seen this many reporters outside of the front gate. The Enforcers and Aurors stood as a barrier before them, implacable and unmoving, but this didn’t stop the flashing of cameras, the shouting of journalists desperate for answers, even the shortest of quotes that they could write down. The _real_ vultures. 

Tanith swore and grabbed his arm as she tore into the surging crowd like shoulder-barging a wave, scrambling and shoving her way through the throng of people until they reached the front. She grabbed the sleeve of the nearest Auror and fixed him with a glare. ‘He’s with me. Let us through.’ 

She was recognised, of course, and so there was no argument as Tobias stepped out of the crowd and onto the other side of the barrier of Enforcers and Aurors - until he heard a shout from the masses. ‘Hey! How come he gets to come in!’ 

Tanith tugged at his sleeve, but Tobias turned to glare at Havelock Trindley, senior reporter for the _Daily Prophet_. ‘Friends of the family get to come in.’ 

Trindley, who had a burly Enforcer pushing him back, scowled. ‘Bullshit are you -’ 

‘I was at their wedding. Check the photographs.’ 

‘You were a plus one!’ Trindley pointed an accusing finger at Tanith. ‘This is favouritism from the Auror Department -’ 

Tobias opened his mouth to protest what couldn’t really be protested, but then Tanith had let go of his sleeve and was rejoining the wall of Aurors and Enforcers, rounding on Trindley. ‘Yeah,’ she said, voice flat. ‘It’s favouritism for people who aren’t _hacks_ and respect the wishes of the family. What’re you going to do about it, Trindley?’ 

‘I’m going to put it in the paper, that’s what -’ 

‘Today?’ Tanith scoffed. She really didn’t like reporters, Tobias thought. It was just as well he’d still been in politics when he’d married her. ‘Today, Trindley, I could beat the living shit out of you and the article wouldn’t even make the _Lifestyle_ section. The family have the right to talk to whoever they please and, seeing as I know the family, I know they’re not going to want to talk to _you_.’ Then she tore away and up the path to the Potter house, Tobias limping in her wake, and when she spoke again her voice was a low growl. ‘If you make the slightest fuss about anything that goes on inside - if Ginny Potter _throws things_ at you until you leave and you complain - I will have your balls, Grey.’ 

‘I thought you had them already, dear,’ he mused. ‘But don’t worry. I’m not here to make trouble.’ He was there to lend a voice and help a message get out. But he wasn’t looking forward to dealing with Ginny Potter. Of all of the parents, she was the one he knew the least. And he really hoped she wasn’t still in floods of tears, however legitimate a reaction to losing her son that was. He wouldn’t know what to do. 

An Auror greeted them at the front door, and Tanith let out a slow breath once they were safe and secure inside. ‘All right. Thanks, Geoff. Where is she?’ 

‘Upstairs,’ said a voice from the end of the hall, and they turned. Tobias didn’t need to know the family to recognise James Potter. His face was plastered across enough back pages of his papers for him to be recognised at just a glance. Only his Quidditch talent was going to get him into those articles, rather than his family - but that he was tall and good looking and had a great smile for the camera helped him get into the photographs. 

Right then he was _not_ smiling. Dark eyes flickered to the notebook in his hand. ‘You brought the _press_ here?’ 

Tobias tucked it away and lifted his hand, the other clutching his cane. ‘I’m not talking to anyone who doesn’t want to be talked to.’ 

James’ expression didn’t shift. ‘Good. Then you can leave.’ 

Tanith exhaled. ‘I’d like to talk to your mother, James -’ 

‘My mother’s upstairs and seeing as you brought the press in here, Captain, I’m not inclined to talk to you, either.’ James didn’t even look at her, gaze still locked on Tobias. ‘Did I stutter?’ 

Tobias forced himself to not react. ‘My name is Tobias Grey, I’m the Editor of the _Clarion_ -’ 

‘I like your paper. Get out.’ 

‘And I conducted the interview of your parents last September upon the Phlegethon outbreak.’ Tobias paused a moment, letting that one sink in. ‘They’ve used me before to talk to the press. I just want to see if they’ll use me again. Otherwise I wouldn’t presume.’ 

James’ expression twitched. ‘These interviews wouldn’t be _necessary_ if your kind weren’t such disgusting vultures; she shouldn’t _need_ to worry about giving an _appropriate reaction_ to the press. Other families don’t.’ 

‘The other families involved do, and will, unless they want people with an agenda to form the narrative. And you might say that you don’t care, but you want your brother to be remembered in the right -’ 

‘Don’t tell me what I want.’ But James took a step back. ‘Come with me, then. And if she doesn’t want to talk to you, you go or I will sling you out on your arse.’ He jabbed a finger at Tanith. ‘And have you fired.’ 

Tanith opened and shut her mouth. Harry Potter would not fire one of his senior staffers on his son’s angry say-so, but she was enough of a diplomat to know when to let the grieving nineteen year-old have his angry rant. So Tobias followed James Potter up the stairs, limping on every step. 

‘I really am sorry about what’s happened,’ he said when they were on the first floor. ‘The Doyles are like family to me. I don’t want to be capitalising on this.’ 

‘Yeah,’ said James roughly. ‘It must really cut you up that you have the inside track and so the _Clarion_ ’sthe paper everyone’s going to buy to read the _exclusives_ from the families of the victims.’ 

_There are times_ , Tobias thought as he followed Harry Potter’s son down the corridor, _I think it was easier in the war. At least the people I wrote about only wanted to kill me._   
  
James reached a door and knocked. ‘Mum? It’s me. I’ve got Tobias Grey from the _Clarion_ with me. He’s wondering if he can have a word.’ 

There was a pause, then the door swung open to reveal the exhausted and ashen-faced form of Ginny Potter. But there was a fire in her eyes and Tobias realised his ignorance on sports had left him underestimating her. She was a pro with the press; had been on both ends of it. She could deal with him fine. 

‘Mister Grey. I assumed you’d be along sooner or later.’ 

He bit his lip. ‘I’m truly sorry -’ 

‘Thank you. But I really don’t think I’m up for a conversation with the press right now.’ 

‘Of course.’ Tobias inclined his head. ‘Though I don’t suppose you’re prepared to say where your husband is? To the Aurors if not to me.’ 

‘He didn’t tell them?’ Ginny turned her gaze skyward, a fresh wave of pain crossing her face. ‘Where do you think he is, Mister Grey? In the worst of all possible times, who do you think he’s chosen to be with instead of us?’ 

_Oh, Christ, I did not want to walk into the middle of this dysfunction -_   
  
‘I… would wager with your brother and sister-in-law,’ Tobias said. ‘There are some people afraid they’re about to gear up and go break a lot of international laws -’ 

‘No.’ Her sigh was wry and pained. ‘The Floo can get you to the Headmaster’s Office in Hogwarts. They’ll be in the Gryffindor Common Room.’ She reached for the door. ‘Goodbye, Mister Grey.’ 

It was pointed, of course, but he nodded. ‘Goodbye, Mrs Potter.’ The door was shut and he stood in the gloomy corridor next to the tall, tense form of James, and he looked at the youth with a sigh. ‘I’ll be out of your hair, then.’ 

‘Yeah.’ James turned and headed for the stairs and Tobias limped after him, taking his time down the first flight. But he stopped on the next landing, and Tobias cocked his head as he turned, a frown on his face. When he next spoke his voice was a low, flat growl. ‘What she said about where my father is in the worst of all possible times - if you print even a hint of that, if you act as a source for anyone on that, if you so much as unofficially _breathe_ that, I assure you, I am going to bring the entire power of this family down on your head to destroy you and your business.’ 

This, at least, was not an empty threat, and so Tobias thinned his lips and nodded. Pride flared up at the accusations, but he’d long ago learnt how sometimes a journalist needed to be _humble_ , and this was one of those times. _It_ _’s not about you. You’re not the story._ ‘We have an understanding.’ 

Tanith wore an expression of apprehension when they made it downstairs. ‘Everything okay?’ 

‘Yeah,’ said James, gaze taut. ‘The Floo’s through there. I’d appreciate it if you stopped using the hallway as your command centre.’ He nodded at the door behind Tobias and stomped towards the kitchen. 

Tobias turned to his wife. ‘I know where they are,’ he said. ‘I’m going to go talk to them. Even if they fob me off… I’ll tell them to get in touch with you.’ 

‘Are they all right?’ 

‘They’re _not_ invading Brazil.’ 

‘It’ll do. Don’t tell them to come back, then. So long as they’re safe and not doing something stupid, they can take all the time they need. I got this.’ 

‘You know everyone is going to be crawling all over -’ 

‘My investigation of the leak, and judging my every action.’ She gave him a pointed look he knew well; she did not require his layman’s input. ‘I don’t need them back to do my job, Grey. I’d rather run the security of the country myself with diminished manpower and an absent Division Head than try to _help_ run the security of the country with a Division Head who’s going out of his mind.’ 

He winced. ‘Sorry. I trust you. Though I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything out of Malfoy Manor?’ 

She gave a wry, empty laugh. ‘You’re not getting in there. A guy from a German paper tried to climb the wall and the wards _set him on fire_.’ 

‘That doesn’t sound especially legal.’ 

‘It doesn’t, does it?’ Tanith’s face twisted. ‘But so long as it’s only journalists who’re ignoring his demands to be left alone, I’m putting that at the very _bottom_ of my To Do list. The man’s wife left him and now he’s lost his only son. He has no family left to talk to. Not that, by all accounts, he talked to his son any more.’ 

‘I didn’t think there’d be a day where I’d feel sorry for Draco Malfoy.’ 

‘Today’s one of those days. I’d better go.’ She stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek. ‘See you at home?’ 

‘Yeah. I’m cooking once we’ve dropped Sophie back home.’ He bit his lip. ‘I know you’ll be slammed just making it back for dinner, but if you get a chance - go see Gabe. Seriously.’ 

‘I will.’ Something tugged at her expression, and he tried to ignore the twinge in him. Jealousy was the closest word he could find for the sensation, an absent, old one he knew well and knew how to deal with, but the fact remained that if there was anyone in the world who understood aspects of his wife he couldn’t reach, it was Gabriel Doyle. He had accepted this and understood this a long time ago. But today was not a day he wanted to feel detached. 

On the other hand, Gabriel needed the help more. 

So he left, went to the empty living room where ghosts smiled at him through photographs, and marched into the fireplace to take the Floo system to Headmaster Thaddeus Stubbs’ office. 

Hogwarts was not completely empty after the quarantine had been lifted four months ago. The school was on shutdown, the academic year given up as students recovered and the damage to the protective wards over the grounds were re-established. But the House Elves remained, some of the staff remained supervising the work, including Stubbs himself. It was impossible to be a major figure in the British press and not have some sort of relationship with the headmaster. It was enough to get him into the office at a time like this. It was enough to have Stubbs even be _polite_ in telling him to get out. The gruff man wore a scowl on his face set to stick there, and Tobias couldn’t blame him. The death count of Hogwarts students in a year had never been so high since the war. 

He’d been here when the Phlegethon crisis had ended, of course - swooping down to see his son and daughter first, throwing the article of this to a reporter who _didn_ _’t_ have a child at Hogwarts, the scoop of the last quarter-century something he was perfectlyhappy to abandon for a chance to hold his children for even a second longer. There had been other visits over the years, but he’d never been to the Gryffindor Common Room before. Nevertheless, he could understand the instinct to run here, like running home. 

He wasn’t sure if coming here today wasn’t like rubbing salt in the wound. 

The passage of the Fat Lady was open, and he wrinkled his nose with dissatisfaction at the steps up to the Common Room. But there was nothing for it; he had to grip his cane, draw a deep breath, and limp up them one at a time, ignoring the throbbing pain. 

Voices reached him by the time he was halfway there, raised and furious. ‘…why _shouldn_ _’t_ I, Hermione? What could _possibly_ make it worse?’ 

‘Driving people to ground, undermining the progress of the International Convocation -’ 

‘Fat lot of _bloody_ good the Convocation’s been doing -’ 

‘But they _will_ do, if we’re _patient_ -’ 

‘Patient? I’ve been patient for the last _year_ , and this hasn’t got us _any_ closer! I sat at home and played by the rules, even when _our children_ were the ones out there risking their necks, and now they’re _dead_!’ 

He knew those two voices. It was impossible to not recognise Hermione Granger and Harry Potter by sound alone, even if he’d never heard The Boy Who Lived so close to cracking. And it was starting to feel a lot like intruding, eavesdropping, but he couldn’t make it up the steps any _faster_ … 

‘We need to know what happens next,’ Hermione was saying, voice strained but level. ‘I want to know what’s going on in the Council of Thorns, why they’ve suddenly taken this _massive_ deviation from form.’ 

‘Because of the Rabbit’s Foot! Because they were beaten -’ 

‘They didn’t do this after Phlegethon was cured here!’ 

Then the third voice, low and firm and closer. ‘Someone’s coming.’ 

Tobias looked up as he turned the last spiral to see Ron Weasley stood at the top of the stairs, frowning down at him. ‘Mister Weasley. Sorry for the… slow interruption.’ 

Ron’s expression didn’t shift. ‘I suppose it was only a matter of time before the press sniffed us out.’ His voice wasn’t harsh, but it certainly wasn’t welcoming. 

‘Your sister told me where I could find you,’ he admitted, and was relieved when Ron extended a hand to help him up the last few steps. He limped into the common room, gaze sweeping across this place he’d never been to before, but his ultimate destination was the nearest armchair. ‘Sorry. I need a second.’ Sweat was pouring down his face. The walking had been bad enough; the climbing of Hogwarts stairs had finished him off, and he pulled out a handkerchief to mop his brow. This was not the first impression he’d wanted to give. ‘Don’t worry, I’m off the record until you say otherwise.’ 

Harry Potter’s eyes were as wild as his hair, bright and furious against his pale skin. He’d frozen mid-pace at Tobias’ appearance, but now he turned. ‘You can take a breather,’ he said. ‘Then you can piss off back down. I’m not saying a word to the press.’ 

‘Mate, he’s been trustworthy before,’ said Ron, lifting a placating hand. It seemed as if the Weasleys had been the calming presence against an explosive Harry Potter. ‘Also, we can just ask Cole to destroy him if he does something to piss us off.’ 

‘She would, in fact, do that,’ Tobias agreed, before lowering his handkerchief. ‘If you really don’t want to talk, I’m not here to make you. I’ve spoken to the Doyles, to Lillian Rourke, and to Ginny. The _Prophet_ is already making up its own versions of what your children were up to, why they were targeted, who the leak was. They’ll be reprinting Raskoph’s paper in full in their evening edition. I wanted to ask how you want this handled.’ 

‘I _don_ _’t_ want this handled,’ growled Harry, before Ron stepped up to him and planted a hand on his shoulder. 

‘Hermione?’ Ron looked at his wife. 

She let out a shaky exhale. ‘I’ll… write you something you can release about what they were up to. I think the world might as well know the truth. The world should know what they - they died for.’ 

Tobias dropped his gaze. ‘You’ll be hearing this a lot. But I _am_ sorry. For you, and for them. They saved this place. All of Britain owed them.’ 

‘…and we let ourselves think that made them adults, able to run off and do something _incredibly_ dangerous -’ Harry tore out of Ron’s grip, back to a frantic, distraught pacing. 

‘What were we going to do? Lock them up forever?’ said Ron. ‘We could help them, counsel them. We could give them support nobody could really give _us_ when we were their age.’ 

‘And it wasn’t enough!’ 

Ron stepped back as if punched in the gut, face going ashen. His wife moved to his side, hand slipping into his, an anchoring of strength and stability in this storm of loss. ‘Thank you for helping them, Tobias,’ said Hermione quietly. ‘The house, it… helped.’ 

‘They should have come home,’ said Harry. 

Tobias flinched. ‘Perhaps,’ he agreed, then his lips thinned. ‘Entirely off the record, Tanith mentioned someone’s been brought in.’ 

Harry scowled. ‘I will _fire_ her -’ 

‘We’ve been married for over twenty years; you think this is the first time she’s talked about her job? Have you ever noticed me print something from the Auror office sooner than I was supposed to?’ Tobias lifted a hand and looked at Hermione. ‘It was someone in your own office.’ 

Hermione looked away. ‘Yes. Trant. Who has been with me for ten years, and it seems traced my Patronus to Kythos. And I’m well aware that if the Council of Thorns could get to her, they could get to more or less _anyone_ in the Ministry.’ 

‘I sincerely doubt the leaks will stop there,’ Tobias agreed. 

Ron asked, ‘Do we think Malfoy was keeping track of Scorpius?’ 

‘He wasn’t going to act against his own son,’ said Harry. 

‘We can’t account for everyone who works for him,’ said Hermione. 

‘And… look this is unpalatable, but the bloke went mental when Scorpius walked out on him,’ said Ron, looking at his wife. ‘That’s what you said, yeah?’ 

‘He did.’ She looked awkward. ‘I only have what I’ve heard. Over the last few months companies have been shut down, resources have been re-allocated, nobody’s been into or out of Malfoy Manor. He’s been up to something.’ 

‘You think he was up to _murdering his son_?’ said Harry. 

‘Who says that anyone feeding information knew it would lead to deaths?’ Tobias pointed out. ‘Even Trant might have just thought Raskoph would _follow_ them.’ 

‘That’s a damned fool theory -’ 

‘Thank you, Tobias,’ said Hermione sincerely, cutting Harry off. ‘I’ll have that message sent to your office within the hour.’ 

‘Of course.’ It was a dismissal, but Tobias didn’t rise yet, lips thinning. ‘Can I ask what you’re going to do next?’ 

‘Are we going to go on a mad rampage to Brazil, or tear through the Ministry to find everyone untrustworthy, you mean,’ said Ron. 

‘Yes.’ 

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances as Harry continued to stalk about like a caged animal. Eventually, Ron’s shoulders sank. ‘I don’t know. I just - I don’t. One day at a time.’ 

It wasn’t a helpful answer. But it was an honest one. Tobias nodded and got to his feet with a grunt. ‘Of course. Thank you. Tanith’s holding down the fort with the Aurors; she says you two should take as long as you need. Until you’re ready.’ 

‘I can be ready,’ came Harry’s irate growl from the corner. 

Ron nodded at Tobias, ignoring the comment. ‘Yeah. Tell her thanks. And… thanks for coming to ask. We appreciate it.’ 

He flinched at that despite himself. ‘I’m sorry to intrude. I really am. I wish you could just deal with it like other families. And I’m sorry it happened. I didn’t know Albus or Rose, but I knew Matt…’ His voice trailed off. ‘I’ll… let you get on with it.’ 

What ‘it’ was, he didn’t know. But he had long outstayed his welcome, and it was with guilt that he limped to the door. He hadn’t said everything he’d wanted - a part of him wanted to prompt Harry to go to see his wife, his son. But it wasn’t his place to get involved or judge. If something happened to Robert or Aurora, he had no idea how _he_ _’d_ handle it. And he’d wanted to ask more. What happened next? What would be done to ensure security in the Ministry? Would they be appealing to the Convocation to take further action against the Council of Thorns? Would there be a full international manhunt for Raskoph and Thane? Would governments be pressured to be less tepid against the Council of Thorns? As a journalist, he had to wonder. There were days he hated his job. Hated that he had to go to these people and ask them, hated that he ignored common decency. But he genuinely believed it was be better than letting his less ethical contemporaries spin facts; someone had to get the truth. 

He glanced over his shoulder when he got to the top of the steps, and the sight was enough to make him stop. Harry stood at the window, no longer the tall, controlled veteran Auror that he remembered, but a shrunken man, reduced. Beaten. Flanking him stood his two best friends, burdened with their own grief and loss, but together. United in pain, as they’d been united in battle in the past, in a room where they’d made so many plans and so many recoveries before. 

If he’d had a camera, it would have been a photograph to win awards. 

He was glad he didn’t. 


	25. Arisen

‘I never thought I’d say this,’ Scorpius said to Rose, clutching his steaming mug of tea, ‘but thank God for your crazy obsessive packing.’ 

‘It’s only done us so much good,’ she said, gaze sweeping across the inside of the tent. ‘We have somewhere to hide out. On the other hand, you’re still in your pyjamas.’ 

‘And the ever-so-fetching fluffy slippers,’ said Selena. 

Explosions were never good. They were even worse at two in the morning, when nobody had time to pack, only some of them had time to throw on shoes, and only ingrained reactions had made Rose snatch up her backpack before piling out the bedroom. Mostof what they had travelled with had been unpacked, the clothes and personal effects. But the tent had still been in the bag, and the supplies they’d packed for when they’d be camping beyond shops, and so they weren’t going to die of starvation, exposure, or, worst of all, lack of tea. 

They had _almost_ died of Fiendfyre. And splinching. But as the searing heat had come blasting down at them, Rose’s apparition had yanked them spinning through space, away from danger and death and… 

…onto the side of a mountain in the middle of the night, without a single source of light in sight. But the sky had been clear, there had been no sign of Fiendfyre, they were all together and, miraculously, none of them had been splinched. Lisa had stomped around the area like she was expecting an ambush at any moment, but Albus had, of course, been calm. He’d had them put up the tent. He and Lisa had set up some protective wards to hide them from sight. They’d had some tea. And they’d slept, because there was, like he said, nothing to do until morning. 

Now it was morning, and they could finally ask the big questions. How had they been found? How had they almost survived? How had Rose managed to apparate them away in time? 

Where the hell _were_ they? 

‘I don’t know,’ she said for the umpteenth time when Scorpius asked for the umpteenth time. ‘I know I _should_ know, and it’s a miracle we didn’t get splinched, but I was focusing on getting _away_. I was trying to think of somewhere in Greece I could envision well enough for a mass apparition, but this is the first time I’ve _been_ to Greece. Something must have popped into my head.’ 

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Selena. ‘Or, rather, it does matter, but I’m just grateful we’re alive. We’re lucky.’ 

‘Luck,’ said a voice from the tent flap, ‘had nothing to do with it.’ Lisa would have cut a comical figure, striding into the tent barefoot, wearing the bright pink spare pyjamas Selena had loaned her, if it hadn’t been for the knife-edge air of control about her, the tension with which she gripped her wand. ‘That was a hell of an apparition, Weasley.’ 

Something had changed in her, Scorpius thought. She’d started out like an angry animal that had been spooked, reverting more to flight than fight instinct, though with the latter simmering somewhere under the surface. It wasn’t that odd; he didn’t know how he’d feel after weeks in Prometheus Thane’s tender care, but curling up inside himself sounded like a good start. Conversation had been like watching someone try to act normally again with Bambi-like dexterity; well-meaning, he thought, but clumsy and uncertain. Now that someone was trying to kill them, she looked a lot more at ease. As if she’d explode at any moment, but this was obviously something she understood, something she knew how to deal with. It was like they’d stopped playing a game she’d only read the rules for, and moved into one she’d mastered. 

He wished he couldn’t understand that so well. He didn’t want to be used to people trying to kill him. But it was happening. 

Rose coloured. ‘Not if I don’t know where we are.’ 

‘That would be useful,’ Lisa agreed, moving to perform a sweep of the tent’s central room, as if some new threat had appeared in the ten minutes she’d been outside. ‘But being alive is the priority.’ 

‘It’s not like we can _have_ a secondary goal without that one,’ Scorpius pointed out to Rose. ‘You did well. We got out of there in one piece. Or, more importantly, in six.’ He took her hand and tried a reassuring smile. 

She did her best to return it. After they’d appeared she’d all but collapsed from the effort, which had contributed to Albus telling them to put up the tent and stop for the night. Mass apparition with this kind of control and chaos couldn’t have been easy, and he could only marvel at how she’d risen to the challenge. He couldn’t have done it. 

‘The wards are untouched,’ Lisa said once she seemed satisfied the tent canvas wasn’t an enemy, and she pulled up a stool. ‘I swear, when we get clothes again, I’m sleeping in my boots.’ 

He raised an eyebrow at her. ‘You say that like you’re angry you weren’t doing that already.’ 

‘And look where it got me.’ 

‘So, the world of bodyguarding’s a mental place.’ 

Her expression tensed - then the tent canvas opened and her wand twitched at it before Albus and Matt slunk in. Matt was the only one of them with proper clothes, still in what he was wearing last night, and Albus was the only other with _shoes_ , having pulled them on before he’d answered the door. With Albus borrowing Matt’s big coat, which was a bit tight around the shoulders but had still been packed in Rose’s bag, not needed in warm Paris, Monte Carlo, or Kythos, the two of them had set off at dawn to have a sweep of the area. 

‘I think,’ said Matt, ‘that we’re in Greece. Is there any coffee?’ 

Scorpius gaped at him. ‘Seriously? You’ve been out there for thirty minutes and all you can do is confirm we’re still in the same country?’ 

He scowled. ‘We can set up some triangulation charms to try to locate ourselves, but it’d be best if I travelled, say, an hour in each direction to get the best and most precise results. I’m not doing _that_ without breakfast.’ 

‘I don’t like the idea of us splitting up that far apart,’ said Lisa. ‘We need to stick together for safety.’ 

‘We _need_ clothes and _shoes_ ,’ said Selena. 

It wasn’t often, mused Scorpius, that Selena could say that and be absolutely right. ‘Practical clothes, of course,’ he said, ‘though I bet you wouldn’t turn down a little kitten heel right now.’ 

‘Depends on how cute it is.’ 

‘Can’t we just transfigure something?’ 

For the look Selena gave him, Scorpius might as well have said, “can’t we just rub mud all over ourselves then Morris dance down Diagon Alley”. ‘Do you know your measurements, Scorpius?’ 

‘No, but -’ 

‘And that’s even before basic fundamentals of tailoring. You like your clothes to look _nice_ , Scorpius, not hang off you like sacks. You, of all people, should know that it’s more than simply throwing cloth together, or else why _do_ you spend so much on your shirts?’ She waved a dismissive hand. ‘We would look _odd_ without the most meticulous planning. Subtly, unavoidably odd or, worse, shabby.’ 

Rose slid hot drinks to Matt and Albus as they sat down, desperate to move the topic on. ‘There was nothing else out there?’ 

‘We’re halfway up a mountain,’ said Albus. ‘There’s no snow higher up, but there wouldn’t be this time of year. I’m sorry, I really couldn’t see anything else distinctive.’ 

‘Can’t we just apparate somewhere we know really, really well?’ said Selena. 

Rose sighed. ‘Two problems with that. The first is that there isn’t anywhere in a reasonable apparition range that I know really, really well. This is the first time I’ve even _been_ to Greece. So that would make an apparition tough in the first place. The second is that without knowing where we are exactly, apparition becomes even harder. The odds of us making it here okay were stupidly long. We’re lucky to be okay and I don’t want to risk it again.’ 

‘Stop saying we were lucky,’ said Lisa. ‘We’re alive because of your skills. But I agree there’s no point taking the risk when we haven’t explored other options.’ 

Scorpius cocked his head at her. ‘Speaking of still being alive, what the hell warned you last night?’ 

Her expression tensed. ‘Those rituals - the delayed blast Fiendfyre - were the same sort of magic used in the ambush of myself and the Professor in Copenhagen. I detected the magical signature they left. It was discreet; if I hadn’t recognised it, I would have probably dismissed it as a background presence.’ 

‘You’re in the habit of checking what background magical signatures are present wherever you are?’ said Matt, eyebrow quirked. 

‘In this line of work, you learn to be paranoid, or you don’t learn at all.’ 

‘You make a compelling point,’ sighed Scorpius. ‘Still. Thanks. I didn’t fancy waking up crispy.’ 

Albus nodded. ‘We owe you our lives. You and Rose. But we need to think about what happens next. We need to get in touch with someone but we have no Floo, we can’t do the Patronus communication, we can’t apparate safely. I suppose we could try hiking until we get to civilisation.’ 

Selena tossed a hand in the air. ‘I don’t think we have much of a choice; it’s not like shouting really loud is going to make Britain hear us.’ 

An idea sparked in Scorpius’ mind and exploded like the Fiendfyre, and he sat bolt upright. ‘Yes, it will!’ He looked at Lisa. ‘Bring down the wards. I want to try something.’ 

She hesitated - then looked at Albus, who nodded, and with some reluctance she got to her feet and swished her wand in a circle about the inside of the tent. 

It wasn’t as if Scorpius could consciously feel the protective wards. But when they went down his mind felt more open, like the world was creeping in from the background, and so he got to his feet with a spring in his step as he drew a deep breath. ‘Rigby! Rigby, come here! Master wants a word!’ He didn’t know for sure if it would work, but this was powerful magic, old magic. 

Just a part of him hated himself for trying. 

‘What _is_ he doing?’ Lisa muttered to Albus - right as the air snapped in the middle of the tent’s dining room and there stood the small, wrinkled, sackcloth-wearing form of Rigby, the Malfoy family House Elf. 

‘Master Scorpius called?’ 

Scorpius punched the air. ‘Ha! I _knew_ that would work!’ 

Rigby turned his huge eyes at him, something sinking in beyond the initial, instinctive response to a summons. ‘Master Scorpius is _alive_?’ 

‘Wait, what?’ 

Rigby threw his hands in the air. ‘Master Scorpius lives! Master Draco will be ever-so-pleased to be told that he has not been burnt into tiny green bits! Rigby must go tell him right now -’ 

Scorpius goggled. ‘…what?’ 

Lisa was on her feet in an instant. ‘ _Stop him_.’ 

‘Rigby, stop!’ Scorpius held up both hands. ‘Okay. Now. Er. Both of you explain. Why am I dead and why can’t I be reported not-dead?’ 

She nodded at the House Elf. ‘Make him answer first. We find out what’s going on before we do _anything_.’ 

‘Okay. That makes some sense.’ Scorpius turned to Rigby. ‘Why am I dead?’ 

Rigby worked his mouth. ‘But… Master Scorpius is _not_ dead…’ 

Selena pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘Oh my God, I miss Harley…’ 

_So do I,_ thought Scorpius, then thought he’d never expected to think _that_. He gave Rigby a firm look. ‘Why am I _thought_ dead?’ 

‘Because Master Scorpius was reported dead,’ said Rigby promptly, then seemed to realise more was expected of him. ‘A message went out. This morning. Was put up everywhere but a copy made it to the house’s front door, so Rigby brought it to Master Draco! But it was a bad message. A paper. It said you were dead.’ Rigby’s finger swept across them all. ‘All of you. Except her. Rigby didn’t read about her.’ This last was, of course, directed at Lisa, who shrugged. 

‘The newspapers said we were dead?’ said Rose. 

‘No.’ 

Rose pursed her lips. ‘He’s not very good with elaborating, is he?’ 

Scorpius winced. ‘Sorry. My father pretty much only wants him to do as he’s told, answer only what he’s asked. Initiative isn’t what he values in a House Elf. I wasn’t sure he’d still answer my calls, but I didn’t think my father would _care_ to stop Rigby from helping me, it’s not like I used him much.’ He sat back down and looked levelly at Rigby. ‘You’re not talking to Master Draco right now. You’re talking to Scorpius. I want to know everything. You can’t say too much. It won’t upset me. I promise.’ 

Rigby hesitated, then gave an awkward nod. ‘During Crisis, a paper went out. People calling themselves Council of Thorns. Bad people, people who were hurting you. Said they were responsible for the illness. This was the same sort of message. Said it was written by a man named Raskoph.’ 

‘This would be quicker if you could bring us the paper.’ 

‘Rigby can do that.’ 

Lisa lifted a hand again. ‘Tell him he cannot tell _anyone_ that we are still alive. _Someone_ told Raskoph where to find us, and until we know what’s going on, we should assume we can’t trust anyone but the people in this room.’ 

Scorpius nodded and looked at Rigby. ‘Can you do that? I know you won’t lie to Father, but don’t mention you’ve come to see us. Just bring us this paper and then come right back, okay?’ 

‘Rigby can do that!’ said the House Elf, little chest puffing out - then he snapped his fingers and disappeared with a _crack_. 

Rose looked at Albus. ‘If our parents think we’re dead…’ 

‘That’s good for _nobody_ ,’ finished Selena. ‘I know your parents might be heroes, and all, but I don’t want to _know_ what my mother’s going to do.’ 

‘I would imagine my father’s throwing a tea party,’ said Scorpius in a flat voice as he stood. He went to pace, stopped himself, and settled for moving to the back of Rose’s chair, resting his hands on her shoulders. He could pretend he was reassuring her while he drew on comfort himself, and he relaxed a little when she lifted a hand to his. 

‘Can we trust the House Elf to keep his mouth shut?’ said Lisa. 

‘He won’t lie to my father. But unless Dad directly asks, Rigby won’t volunteer. It’s as good as we’re going to get, and a House Elf is a damned sight more secure than most wizards. And if this has all gone horribly wrong, Rigby is the last person Dad’s going to pay attention to.’ 

Rose pursed her lips. ‘How come he “heard” you?’ 

He made a face. ‘When I say that the Malfoy family has an old-fashioned way of treating its House Elves, I mean old-fashioned even by the standards of keeping House Elves. They must be absolutely loyal and _always_ available to help the family. Dad wants to be able to bellow wherever he is and have Rigby bring him what he wants; something about enchanting Rigby’s own name so when a certain voice says it, somewhere in the world, he can tell. I wasn’t sure it would work from this far out, but it seems it does. There must be a maximum range on the summoning, but seems we’re not outside of it.’ Scorpius rolled a shoulder. ‘I can’t explain more. I never paid attention to it before. I tried to not _use_ Rigby too much.’ 

Then the air twisted and cracked, and the House Elf was back in the tent, clutching a piece of paper that had been burnt at the edges. ‘Rigby had to rescue this copy from the fireplace!’ 

‘Rigby,’ said Rose as Scorpius took the parchment. ‘Where _are_ we?’ 

‘Rigby was summoned to Mount Parnassus!’ 

Realisation crossed Rose’s face. ‘Oh.’ 

‘Where?’ said Selena. 

‘I must have been thinking of the Oracle of Delphi,’ she said to Matt. 

‘That’s always _my_ go-to bolt hole,’ Matt said, voice dry. ‘But at least now we know.’ 

Rose shrugged. ‘Sorry. I could only get us somewhere I’d read of. So I must have thought of Delphi at the last second. We must be pretty near there.’ 

Scorpius was only half-listening to this, though, because his gaze had been locked on the parchment. ‘Guys… this is bad. They’ve got someone in the Ministry.’ 

Albus sat up. ‘Thane?’ 

‘Yeah, but - this is Raskoph.’ His gaze swept over the text. ‘It openly says that we stole from them in Monaco, that although we didn’t set back their plans we still defied the Council of Thorns,’ he read, paraphrasing the block of text below. ‘That they have eyes and ears in Britain, in the Ministry, and that for all our efforts to remain secret, it was easy for them to find us. So they came to Kythos and killed us in revenge.’ 

‘ _Shit_ ,’ said Matt in a low voice, as stricken as the rest of them. 

Something caught in Scorpius’ throat. ‘That’s not all. They wiped out Kythos.’ 

Albus sat up straight. ‘What?’ 

‘Fiendfyre on the whole village, too. They were sheltering us, Raskoph writes. And that made them enemies of the Council of Thorns, so they were wiped out.’ 

‘Oh my _God_.’ Rose had gone white. ‘There were - those people had nothing to do with this.’ 

‘And now they’re dead,’ said Matt. ‘Dead, because of us.’ 

Albus stood. ‘No. Dead because of Raskoph. Dead because of Thane. That’s a catastrophe, a tragedy, and something they must be held accountable for, but this is _not_ because of us.’ He let out a low, shaking breath. ‘We have to get in touch with home.’ 

Lisa looked at him. ‘ _Why_?’ 

‘Because otherwise everyone thinks we’re _dead_!’ 

‘Good.’ 

‘Good? Why is that -’ 

‘She’s right,’ Scorpius found himself saying. ‘The Council of Thorns wanted us dead, and now they think we’ve succeeded, because we were never seen leaving that house and, well, who the hell can do a mass apparate safely out of a hot-spot like that? And we shouldn’t have even seen the blast coming. If we let the world know we’re alive, then they’ll just try again.’ 

‘Exactly,’ said Lisa, who had looked surprised at his agreement. ‘This way we can continue to work, continue to hunt - but they won’t be looking for us, expecting us. _And_ there’s a leak in Britain, someone in the Ministry. You took measures to keep this secret and it wasn’t enough. Who knew where you were?’ 

‘My mum,’ said Rose. 

‘And Tobias Grey - he owned the house. Neither one of them are going to betray us to the Council of Thorns,’ said Matt, looking between Lisa and Scorpius. ‘And, no offence intended, but you two don’t exactly have family back home who are going to be _losing their minds_ over this.’ 

‘I think they would lose their minds more over you actually being dead,’ she said. ‘And _somebody_ told Raskoph. We have to be in this to _win_.’ 

Selena drew a slow breath. ‘I agree. I don’t like it, and I think when my Mum finds out I’m not dead she’s going to _kill_ me, but the Council of Thorns has just demonstrated that what we thought was secure is _not_ secure. They’re not going to give up, and the gloves are off. They will kill not just us, but anyone they can get to who’s helped us. At the least, we have an obligation to help keep _those_ people safe.’ 

‘I think the only way we can reveal we’re still alive is if we just go home and give up on this one,’ said Scorpius. ‘And maybe that’s possible. I bet the International Convocation’s gonna have to get up off its arse now that an entire island’s been wiped out. They can’t pretend Thane and Raskoph aren’t serious threats. Professionals will be on the case.’ 

Albus nodded. ‘Very well. But we have to all be in agreement on this. If one of us goes back, that blows us all open. And if even one of us wants to go back, they _get to go back_. I’m not forcing anyone into putting their families through this, into carrying on now this is decidedly more lethal. Either we’re all in agreement on keeping this quiet, or it’s not kept quiet. So. Does anyone want to tell their family? Or even go back?’ 

His gaze swept across the table. Scorpius didn’t move, and wasn’t surprised when Selena didn’t, but he looked down at Rose. Her lips were thin, and he could feel the tension in her shoulders under his fingertips, but she didn’t shift. 

Eventually Matt sighed. ‘No. I don’t want to go back. I don’t like hurting my family but I don’t want to get more innocent people _killed_ , and I don’t want to get _us_ killed by carrying on this work and exposing ourselves to possible security leaks. Maybe we’re just being stupid kids but we’ve come too far to give up. And now I really, _really_ want to ruin those bastards.’ 

Rose nodded. ‘Yeah,’ she said in a low voice. ‘But don’t just ask us, Al. Tell us what _you_ think.’ 

He gave a sad smile. ‘I am telling you what I think, Rosie. I’m in this to the end.’ Then he sat up. ‘So we need a next move. Which is going to include a _where_ , yeah, but we need money and we need means of transport if we’re not moving through official channels.’ 

Scorpius let go of Rose. ‘I think I can do some of that, too.’ He turned to Rigby. ‘I need you to do a few more things for me. Clothes, bring me all the Muggle clothes I bought last summer. Er, except for the formal things. _Don_ _’t_ bring me the bloody wardrobe, even Dad might notice that. And also, there’s a loose floorboard under my bed. In it’s a lockbox; bring me that. And, er, that’s all for now. Come back quickly.’ 

Rigby bowed, then twirled on the spot and disappeared. Selena raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Lockbox?’ 

‘Some pocket change. But also all the bank details and cards for my Muggle accounts.’ Scorpius pulled up his chair next to Rose. ‘What? Until this year, all my money had my father’s oversight. So I acted like I spent huge chunks of it and instead put it the one place he’d never look: the Muggle world. Just in case I needed money he had no access to or control over. It’s not a lot, it won’t fund us in fancy hotels or the like but it should tide us over for a little bit. I admit, I kind of forgot about it after we got out of Hogwarts, because then I was seventeen and had my inheritance money for myself.’ He made a face. ‘ _Those_ will revert to my father now. Damn, being dead’s going to be complicated.’ 

‘It beats dead-dead.’ 

‘Okay.’ Albus reached to refill his mug of tea. ‘When we’ve got that, we’ll relocate so we’re harder to find, put up new wards. Then Matt and Scorpius, and maybe me if I can find anything that _fits_ , will go find somewhere to buy some bloody clothes and food. And then we need to know where we’re going next. If we’re going to be presumed dead so we can stay one step ahead of the Council of Thorns, then we need to make the most of it.’ He looked at Matt. ‘Do you know where to go next?’ 

He made a face. ‘I have a theory. It’s more like a curiosity, but seeing as our hand’s been forced, until I get a better idea I think it’s worth going to check it out.’ 

‘Go on.’ 

Matt leaned back, gathering thoughts. ‘The Crusades were wars shared by Muggles and wizards alike. With such integration of magical and non-magical society at the time, religious zeal and political ambition were easily shared. On both sides of the war. The Knights Templar were no different; their wizards participated in fights against Muslim wizards, a war alongside the ones in the Muggle history books. Of course, wizarding historians don’t like talking about this much; it’s evidence of how much we’ve tagged along behind the Muggles in the past, rather than beating our own trail -’ 

‘You can skip to the point, you know,’ said Scorpius. 

Rose squeezed his hand in admonishment and Matt scowled, but he pressed on. ‘Just as the Muggle Templars owned and built forts and holdings in the Crusader States over the centuries in the Levant, so did their wizards. Several, in fact, but there’s one which stood out for me because of two facts. The first is that it was apparently built and commanded in 1163 by a Templar wizard named Reynald de Sablé.’ 

‘Hey,’ said Scorpius. ‘That’s our guy!’ 

‘If you mean the man whose sarcophagus we found in the Catacombs, no, it’s not. Because his birth date was listed as 1254. But it’s the same name. Now, I considered it could have been a coincidence, or a family, until I found this miniature of a feature inside the fort.’ Matt opened the Book and turned it so they could all see. It was nothing more than a two-dimensional and stylised depiction of an archway, the keystone of which was emblazoned with the red Templars’ cross, the rest of the masonry bearing etchings and markings which looked only like decoration to Scorpius. 

‘I don’t get it.’ 

‘These stood out to me because they’re very _Celtic_ in their style, aren’t they?’ Matt ran his finger along the designs across the archway. ‘And then I realised they’re familiar. Because these are, if I’m not mistaken, exactly the same as the ones which were in the alcove in Paris. The one the Chalice _used_ to sit in.’ 

Rose looked at him. ‘You said the Templars took the Chalice on the Crusades.’ 

‘So the stories go. They somehow got it in Wales, and then took it with them to war. I’m getting the impression they _did_ believe it was holy, as well as possessing a tremendous capacity to heal the wounded and dying. It had to be kept _somewhere_ in the period the Templars had holdings in the Levant; I think this is where.’ 

Scorpius winced. ‘Why are we going to look where it used to be?’ 

‘We have no idea at what point the fake was put in Paris,’ said Matt. ‘What if it was never brought back from the Crusader States? What if it’s still there? Also, the more we know about it, the traditions around it, the more likely we are to find a clue to wherever it is _now_. So that tomb in the Catacombs said de Sablé was born in 1254. What if that was a lie? The Chalice could apparently imbue the drinker with a long life-span. What if he’d carted the Chalice around for _centuries_ , to the Levant and then back to Paris, changing his identity so nobody got suspicious he was responsible for something this powerful?’ 

‘Then why would they make him a tomb?’ said Scorpius. 

Matt paused. ‘I… have no idea. But it’s a theory.’ 

‘It is,’ said Albus. ‘And I’m convinced it’s worth a look. It beats sitting on a mountain in Greece, anyway. What’s this fort called, and where is it?’ 

‘Castle of Ager Sanguinis,’ said Matt. ‘There actually was a _Battle_ of Ager Sanguinis between the Muggle Crusaders and Muslims, which was a huge and bloody victory for the latter, and diminished the power of the Christians in the Principality of Antioch in the early twelfth century - okay, okay, skipping to the end. There were two of these battles, because the wizards conducted their own fight at the same time some distance away. The Muslims won _that_ one, too, with an _enormous_ loss of life on the part of the Christians, and historians are arguing if the Muslim wizards managing to get to the Muggle army in time after they’d won contributed to the Muggle victory -’ 

‘This isn’t skipping to the end.’ 

‘When the Crusaders regained supremacy in the Principality of Antioch, the Templar wizards had a fort built on that site. Apparently somewhere which had seen so much magical death at such a huge degree held power, and it was power they wanted in their hands. Unfortunately, records don’t give me many more details on that. Ager Sanguinis was abandoned in the late thirteenth century; never conquered, but the Templars lost Tortosa and abandoned the Levant for Cyprus, and the wizards didn’t stick around.’ 

Rose’s brow furrowed. ‘A site of a large amount of magical death.’ 

‘Yeah,’ said Albus. ‘I don’t like that either.’ 

Lisa quirked an eyebrow. ‘Fill me in?’ 

‘Something like that was necessary as ground zero for the Phlegethon ritual at Hogwarts. A site of a huge amount of dark magic, where the barriers between the worlds of the living and the dead were at their weakest,’ said Albus. ‘I dislike that the Templars and the Chalice are tied into something similar, if the Council of Thorns are interested. But this is just conjecture.’ He looked at Matt. ‘Do you know exactly where this place is?’ 

‘Exactly?’ He winced. ‘Not exactly. Somewhere in the Syrian Desert. More than that, I can make some educated guesses. And do more reading.’ 

Albus nodded. ‘Do that. We’ll get equipment. Clothes. Relocate somewhere safer. And then…’ He exhaled. ‘Then we’ll figure out how the hell to _make_ this next move.’

* *

Rose found him hours later, stood just outside the tent while others were on their hunting expeditions for clothes and the rest were getting some sleep. He gave her a wan, tired look, before silently lifting his wand to put up the simple charm James had taught him, the old trick to produce a buzzing noise to those eavesdropping and make getting information impossible. 

‘There’s got to be a way,’ said Albus tensely, ‘for you to use Legilimency discreetly.’ 

Rose made a face, catching up with him almost immediately. ‘Not really.’ 

‘When she’s asleep?’ 

A shrug. ‘It’s possible. I could get surface thoughts, dreams. Maybe from there ride some waves naturally. But I can’t guarantee anything, and she might well know I was doing it. Do you want that?’ Her eyes were tense. 

‘You don’t want to do that.’ 

‘Legilimency isn’t something to do casually, easily. I’m not here to bloody well loot through the minds of people we’ve just met to know if we can trust them, abuse their privacy. We didn’t have a choice with Paquet. I was taught how to do this magic by Mum, but she also taught me the _responsibility_.’ 

‘If you can’t do it discreetly,’ said Albus, ‘then can’t you just do it and then wipe her memories of -’ 

Rose grabbed his elbow, eyes flashing, grip hard enough to hurt. ‘Al, listen to yourself. That is an _utter_ violation you’re talking about. I know you’re scared, you’re worried, but she _saved_ us.’ 

He closed his eyes, drawing a hissing breath. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry, you’re right, I’m just - Kythos. Did she sell us out?’ 

‘She saved us,’ she repeated. 

‘And yet, she’s the _only_ thing we gained from the Rabbit’s Foot. No Chalice. No leads.’ 

‘Okay, so say Thane _did_ know the Chalice was fake, say it was a lure, say he wanted us to succeed and that Lisa’s an infiltrator. Kythos almost killed us all. That Fiendfyre almost killed us all. She warned us, yes, but there was no guarantee none of us would be caught by that Fiendfyre, no guarantee that my apparition would work. That’s not a gamble, that’s _insanity_. We almost died, and she’d have died with us. Trust _that_ , even if you don’t trust her.’ 

Albus’ breath caught. ‘I want to trust her,’ he said. ‘I look at her and I see - she’s like a caged animal, isn’t she? Hurt and scared and ready to lash out. But can we afford trust?’ 

Rose gave a slow, sad smile, hand sliding down his arm to squeeze his hand briefly. ‘What does your gut say, Al?’ 

He exhaled slowly. ‘To trust her. But my gut’s too damned nice -’ 

‘Yes, it is. And stop viewing that as a weakness. If you don’t trust her, trust that she almost died with us. Whatever came before, whatever happened before - we only have each other now. We’re in this together.’

* * 

‘Talk to me, Prometheus.’ It was evening now. Money had been acquired, clothes had been acquired, and they’d relocated. She’d said she was going to check the wards, and because she’d done it over and over, nobody was suspicious or inclined to join her. So it was an easy thing for Lisa to step beyond them, to take her time in this patch of rocky Greek wilderness away from the tent and the others and, at last, make contact. 

It was another minute before one bright eye was visible through the two-way mirror. ‘You’re alive? Thank Merlin.’ 

It was relief, she thought, genuine relief, and something swelled in her at the prospect of such a sincere reaction. He wouldn’t lie to her; there’d be no point. Despite herself, she smiled. ‘We got out in time. We’re laying low. What the _hell_ is going on?’ 

‘It’s Raskoph. I can’t - I may have underestimated him.’ It must have hurt him to say that, she thought. ‘I wanted to continue the hunt for the Chalice, but he was furious that we lost the money to Guerrier and, realising I’d sent you with them, blamed me. So he didn’t listen. So he called up some contacts… and we were sent to Kythos.’ 

‘You said you had him in hand.’ Lisa’s jaw tightened. ‘You said you could manipulate him, lead him -’ 

‘He dug his heels in; I misjudged him. And don’t forget he’s officially the Council’s lead man on this; officially _I_ work for _him_ -’ 

‘He _wiped out Kythos_.’ Her voice shook with a vehemence and pain which surprised her. She was no stranger to death and suffering; witnessing it, delivering it. But there was always a purpose, or so she told herself, and death on this scale was nothing she had ever seen a need for. Because the only need was vengeance and theatrics. ‘Hundreds of people, Prometheus!’ 

‘I know. But, look - the Council is not united in its support for Raskoph. There are some who feel he went off the rails in targeting the Five, and in that huge a loss of life. Not everyone shares his love of brutality, not without purpose; this was an open declaration of war far beyond the subtlety of the Stygian Plagues. Give me _time_ , Eva, and he will be brought to heel.’ 

‘So the Council can’t even make up its mind on what it wants? _Great_.’ 

‘Not everyone wanted the Five dead.’ Prometheus paused. ‘There are those with interests in them.’ 

She narrowed her eyes at the mirror. ‘Who was the source on our location?’ 

‘Someone in Hermione Granger’s office. She’s been found and arrested already.’ His voice bore a hint of hesitation. 

‘But where there’s one, there are others.’ 

‘Of course. But nobody thought Raskoph would do _this_ ; it’s possible they may have given him information more… innocently. All I know is that there _is_ someone terribly high up within the Council who’s now calling for Raskoph’s head.’ 

‘And who’s connected to the Five. You have your suspicions, don’t you.’ 

‘I always suspect people. But why do you think I’ve been so hands-off, why do you think I didn’t kill them, why do you think I’ve watched some of them so carefully?’ She could see him shake his head through the mirror, though there was no hint of where he was, no background visible. ‘I’m not naming names. I don’t _know_. I only have suspicion. Some of their associations are far too pure, some of them have fought too hard against the Council. But the same voice which has fed me information on the Five _also_ told me to, yes, hand over the Resurrection Stone.’ 

She looked away, watching the tent. There was no movement she could see, and she was too far away, standing in the rocky scrubland, to hear voices from inside. She was still safe to talk, and drew a deep breath. ‘So what happens now?’ 

‘We continue with the plan. Raskoph has yet to have the leash pulled and I know he has backers in the Council. Politics will happen, but I’m _confident_ he’ll get reined in. Even if I get told to do it permanently.’ 

‘But if I tell you where we are, where we’re going, then you’ll have to tell Raskoph if you want to move on it. And then he’ll bloody kill us.’ 

‘Then keep silent until you have something _definite_. Maybe until you have the Chalice itself. He thinks you’re dead; let it stay that way. It means I can’t help you, it means you’re on your own, but you can do this, Eva.’ 

It was odd, even after only a few days, to be called by her real name. She’d been stopping thinking of herself as Eva. The sensation of not being Lisa was jarring. ‘No support from you. Watch them, follow them, _help_ them, shield them from Raskoph. Stay out of touch with you. And if I get a chance to grab the Chalice and betray them, or just run… do it.’ 

‘That’s my girl.’ He smiled, perfect white teeth gleaming through the narrow gap of the mirror. ‘I can’t help you without showing I know you’re alive. Don’t let them know. Don’t let the world know. Britain can’t be trusted, I assure you. If Raskoph is reined in, I will make contact, and we’ll resume the plan as before.’ He paused. ‘And, Eva? Keep them alive.’ 

‘You have suspicions on who wants them alive.’ 

‘I always have suspicions. No, I’m not telling you.’ Prometheus sighed. ‘Good luck. And… goodbye.’ 

This might be the last time she spoke to him, she realised, her gut lurching. Back in Monte Carlo that hadn’t been her concern; she’d been focused on the job ahead, and Downing and his brutality. But now they were set to part, to stay out of touch until the job was done, and this was a dangerous job. For both of them. If Raskoph knew he’d protected them, _warned_ them, there would be consequences. 

And she doubted that getting to the Chalice of Emrys would be a cakewalk, even without the Council of Thorns nipping at their heels. Else someone else would have found it before them. 

She drew a sharp breath. ‘Stay safe -’ 

But he was already gone, the mirror already turning to just a normal mirror, and she was speaking to nothing but a locket and the wind. And now Eva Saida really was alone. 

Something caught in her throat. She’d worked independently, but always at Thane’s behest, always with some means of getting in touch with him, some sort of backup, or some notion of how long this would go. But she knew what this meant. If Raskoph caught up with them and came to kill them - her own side, her own employer - she would not be spared and Thane would probably not compromise his position in the Council to save her. She trusted him. But she knew him. He was a professional. 

It would hurt him, but his job came first. 

The noise from the tent made her jump, made her grab her stolen wand and whip around instinctively - then she realised it wasn’t a shout, or a noise of magic, but a roar of Scorpius’ loud, infectious laughter, the echoes of the others with him. 

People were trying to kill them, their families thought they were dead, and they were in there, joking and laughing. Days ago she would have thought them childish and naive. Now, she had to concede this spoke of a resilience she hadn’t expected them to be capable of. 

Eva Saida was alone. But she wasn’t Eva Saida now. She was Lisa Delacroix. 

She snapped the locket shut, tucked her wand away, and walked towards the light of the tent. Ducking in through the flap got her little attention, everyone engrossed in what had made Scorpius laugh: Selena, stood at the table, waving a shoe in Matt’s face in a thoroughly indignant rant questioning just _what_ had possessed him to buy her _this_ shoe in _that_ colour and _that_ make. 

Albus did look up as she came in, though, and grinned. Despite herself she smiled back and he nudged the stool next to him out so she could sit, just as Rose slid a cup of tea across the table for her, warming, welcome. 

Eva Saida was alone. But Lisa Delacroix wasn’t. 

And some day Lisa Delacroix would betray them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The House Elf summoning thing is, perhaps, questionable. It’s incredibly vague at the beginning of Half-Blood Prince how Dumbledore summons Kreacher to Harry, to my recollection; he waves his wand and then Kreacher is there. The notion behind this is that on occasion the Malfoys have become quite obsessive in keeping track of their House Elves, and I can see this story’s Draco using more, ha, draconian methods. This is a kind of House Elf controlling magic that is rare, expensive, and highly socially frowned upon._   
>    
> _Scorpius squirrelling money away, before anyone asks, is not another endless pit of cash. The boy_ _’s probably had a few hundred pounds or so kept in Muggle places. Which is great to get food and clothes in a crisis (or, pocket money for him if he wanted cash Draco didn’t know about) but really doesn’t fund international travel. They still have their backs to a wall._   
>    
> _As for the history - Battle of Ager Sanguinis was something which legitimately happened; everything Matt relays about Muggle history in this chapter is truthful. We are now getting into my_ _‘exciting’ extrapolation of magical crusader history. More shall come in future chapters. But next… to the Levant!_


	26. Quicksilver

‘She’s a bit intense,’ said Scorpius as they walked down the narrow Athenian street. ‘I don’t know if I should be relieved she’s out there watching my back, or creeped out that she’s managed to disappear in this crowd.’ 

‘I don’t think we can be too careful,’ said Albus, hands in his pockets, though Scorpius knew his wand was there, out of sight of the Muggles they wandered past but ready for a quick draw. ‘Meeting a contact like this.’ 

‘Baz is all right. I know him. It’s fine.’ 

‘He’s insisted we meet in public -’ 

‘It means he’s less likely to do something stupid -’ 

‘What if he tells your father?’ 

Scorpius lifted a hand. ‘He and Baz don’t talk any more. But you’ve seen how the press has been reacting. He’s paranoid, and a dead man just asked to get in touch with him. Doing it in public is probably for _his_ safety as much as anyone else.’ 

Rigby was proving useful. They’d racked their brains for a full day on how they were going to travel incognito, until Scorpius had reluctantly admitted he could use some old contacts of his father’s. Draco Malfoy had remade his family fortune from business interests across the world in the years after the war, and while his focus had narrowed as time had gone by, there were still people out there who would respond to the name ‘Malfoy’. 

‘Who even _is_ this guy?’ said Albus. He shouldered his way through the flea market’s thronging mass of locals peering at the stalls of cheap souvenirs, all under the benevolent gaze of tall old buildings whose age gave a legitimacy the bric-a-brac didn’t deserve. ‘Why is he useful, why’s he going to talk to us, why’s he _not_ going to blab about us to the world?’ 

‘Baz is a bigwig in the international magical black market, works out of Russia. Dad did some of his more unsavoury business deals with him back in the day. As for why he’s not going to blab… I’m going to ask really nicely.’ Scorpius hesitated. ‘And pay him. And, well, a man like him doesn’t want to show his face to the proper authorities.’ 

‘So why’s he useful?’ Albus repeated, not particularly mollified. 

‘You’d be surprised at how much crime straddles the magical and Muggle worlds; if there was ever anyone who will know how we can move through both worlds, it’s him. We can’t Floo our way to the Middle East. Or apparate. Or get an international portkey. Baz can sort all of this out. If he chooses to. If he believes me.’ Scorpius’ brow furrowed. ‘He might not be thrilled if he catches wind of Lisa watching.’ 

‘Can _you_ see her?’ 

‘No.’ 

‘And you know she’s there.’ Albus ducked to avoid the dangling wind-chimes of one of the stalls they passed. ‘He won’t know she’s there, so he won’t spot her. She’s a professional.’ 

‘She’s a bit _mental_.’ 

‘People are trying to kill us. I think we’re all a little bit mental.’ Albus’ expression shifted in that manner Scorpius knew well, that gaze of concern. ‘I agree, though, she’s a bit…’ 

‘Intense. You’re worried what they did to her.’ 

‘She’s just - you’ve seen her. One moment she’s a badass with a wand, but then I’ve seen her… Scared.’ 

‘You _do_ know you don’t have to be everyone’s hero, right, mate?’ 

‘I know. But she saved us on Kythos. And Thane and Raskoph have really screwed her up. Not just from imprisonment, but - they’ve had her betrayed by her colleagues, they murdered the man under her protection. I can understand her being wound up. I can understand her wanting to get them. I just want to help.’ 

‘You _always_ want to help. It’s like your go-to action. Someone stubs their toe and you want to help.’ 

‘Are you saying I shouldn’t help her?’ 

‘Well, no.’ Scorpius’ brow furrowed. ‘To be cynical, we’re all in the same boat and I’d rather we have a handle on her. To be less cynical, she did save our lives so we owe her.’ 

‘That’s your _less_ cynical? To help someone because they’re owed it?’ 

‘You might _know_ you don’t have to be everyone’s hero, but you sure as hell can’t stop yourself, can you?’ He shook his head and punched Albus on the arm. ‘You okay, though?’ 

‘Sure. I mean, my parents think I’m dead and I’m allowing that lie to continue for reasons which feel more flimsy every time I wake up, causing them untold pain…’ Albus drew a deep breath. ‘It’s easier to worry about everyone else.’ 

‘This is me, Al. You can be honest.’ 

‘I know. But, hey, look, we’re here.’ 

‘This isn’t over,’ Scorpius threatened as they emerged from the narrow street into the sweeping, open space of Monastiraki Square, a wide, open space dominated by the looming shape of the mosque with its domed roof. Behind it, over the rooftops of the rest of Athens, he could see the Acropolis looking down at them from the cliff-face above the city, and felt the briefest twinge that they wouldn’t have the chance to get sight-seeing done. 

But they were here for business, and that included moving through the heaving square with its market stalls and making for the benches at the middle, concrete blocks around a glass centre that shimmered under the Mediterranean sun. This was the meeting place Baz had set, so all they could do was wait for him to make contact amids the crowd of amiable Muggles enjoying this bright, early summer day. 

‘Curious, isn’t it,’ said Scorpius. ‘It all looks a lot _like_ Monte Carlo, and yet, sort of not quite? Like everything’s just been skewed a bit. All still kind of “Mediterranean” but different in its way. It’s -’ 

Then there was a hand on his shoulder and the distinctive feel of a wand tip pressed into his kidneys, and as his eyes widened a burly figure stepped out of the crowd and did the same to Albus. Scorpius froze, and only relaxed a _little_ when he recognised the voice in his ear. ‘So how did we meet, _Scorpius_?’ 

‘Oh. Baz. Hi.’ Scorpius let out a deep breath. ‘I was, what, four years old? You’d come to the Manor to discuss business arrangements with my Dad. I had my toy train out in the middle of the parlour and Dad wanted me to move it, and I threw _such_ a strop. Dad broke the train. You must have grabbed the pieces and fixed them while Dad was out of the room and getting some papers, and you gave it back to me before you left.’ 

Then the hand and the wand were gone, and they could all turn and face each other. Albus looked disapproving, but Scorpius pasted a smile on his face as he looked to his contact and his security. ‘Was that _really_ necessary, Baz?’ 

Baz was a short, wiry man, of narrow, lined features and dark hair going grey at the temples. His security escort was more of a size of Albus, a broad, blond man of a similar age. Both of them had slid their wands away, the four of them now nothing but people stood talking in a crowded square. ‘You’re _dead_ , boy. I’m taking precautions.’ 

‘With the same charm as ever, of course.’ Scorpius waved a hand. ‘Al, this is Balthazar -’ 

Baz swore in Russian, cutting him off. ‘We don’t need full names. And I don’t live under a rock; I know who he is.’ 

‘And your charming security?’ Scorpius looked at the other man. 

‘Security?’ the big blond Russian said indignantly. 

Baz sighed. ‘This is Dimitri. He works with me. I was not coming alone to this meeting. I wanted someone reliable. He understands secrecy.’ Then Baz frowned. ‘But you _are_ dead. I do not talk with your father directly any more. But the world knows the Hogwarts Five are dead.’ 

‘That’s what they’re calling us? Huh. Well, we’re not.’ 

‘We are not in the habit of talking to corpses, no,’ said the man called Dimitri. ‘Though escaping Kythos like that was not thought possible.’ 

‘It wouldn’t be the first time the impossible was done,’ said Albus. ‘There’s no need for us to talk particulars.’ 

‘I agree,’ said Baz. ‘The Council of Thorns thinks you’re dead, and they’ve sworn vengeance against anyone who helped you in the past or continues to defy them. The papers are saying someone inside the Ministry sold you out, so you can’t even trust your own countrymen. We’re on the same side; I see no need to reveal this lie to the world.’ 

Albus quirked an eyebrow. ‘There are people who’d pay a _lot_ for this information.’ 

Baz’s lip curled. ‘Yes. And then the Council win, and the governments we know are ripped down, the laws we know collapse. I may not live inside the system, but I like knowing where and what it is, where the lines are, who I deal with. So we fight the good fight.’ 

‘He is being too coy.’ The big man named Dimitri folded his arms across his chest. ‘Because he is also working with the Russian government, using his contacts to _help_ us fight the Council. I do not work for him. I work for the Russian Federation, and I work _with_ him. In this situation, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, and the Council of Thorns is our enemy.’ 

Baz swore in Russian. ‘You have to blow me open?’ 

‘I suspect your reputation as black market dealer is not good for earning trust.’ Dimitri looked at the other two. ‘Though I must ask: all of the Five are alive?’ 

Albus and Scorpius exchanged glances, then Scorpius sighed. ‘Nobody died, no. But - we’re not here to talk about this.’ 

‘No. I assumed you didn’t send a House Elf to break into my home and ask me for a meeting hundreds of miles away just so I could be so lucky as to know you live,’ said Baz. ‘What do you need?’ 

‘Transport,’ said Scorpius. ‘We can’t move internationally without being noticed, not easily. We need to get into Syria. Can you provide us with a discreet international portkey?’ 

‘If you can wait several weeks.’ Baz shook his head. ‘But you know this.’ 

‘I do.’ He sighed. ‘How much for Muggle transport?’ 

‘Muggles use papers to travel, too. But… some methods are more serious about security than others. I can get you the papers we use to befuddle the less-secure transit routes. Which means no airplanes. Probably not ships. Trains, perhaps. To Istanbul then onward, there should be the express to Aleppo.’ Baz hesitated. ‘It still costs.’ 

‘I can pay.’ 

‘It’s a two thousand mile journey. Not cheap.’ 

‘I don’t have much of a choice, do I?’ 

Dimitri looked at Baz and said something low and fast in Russian. Baz rolled his eyes and responded, Dimitri gave a firm nod, and then Baz sighed. ‘…or I fund it,’ he said, throwing Dimitri a glare. ‘Seeing as to fight the Council of Thorns is everyone’s responsibility.’ 

Albus blinked. ‘That would be… much appreciated.’ 

‘You had best be reimbursing me when this is all over…’ Baz kept glaring at Dimitri. ‘But. Yes. This is in everyone’s best interests.’ He looked at Scorpius. ‘You might still want to think of telling your father you live.’ 

‘Why would I want to continue disappointing him?’ 

Baz frowned. ‘I do not like your father. There are reasons I do not work with him any more. And there are many ways in which he is bad news, connected to bad people, doing bad business, even by my standards. But by all reports he is not _happy_ to lose his son. A bounty has gone out.’ 

‘A _bounty_?’ 

‘Fifty thousand galleons for whoever can bring in the man responsible for murdering you.’ 

‘Interesting fact,’ added Dimitri. ‘We found about this bounty from a Council of Thorns agent.’ 

Albus and Scorpius exchanged glances. ‘What does _that_ mean?’ 

Baz shrugged. ‘The Council of Thorns has factions. Not all of them are happy at Raskoph killing you. And your father has connections in there.’ 

‘It is possible he knows a disreputable man who knows a disreputable man who works for the Council. Seeing as such bounties are illegal,’ said Dimitri. ‘But bear this in mind.’ 

Scorpius’ gut twisted, but he drew a slow, raking breath. ‘How long before we can get a train?’ 

The two men exchanged glances again. ‘A day? Tomorrow. Noon,’ said Baz at last. ‘Meet here. We will have the tickets and the travel papers.’ 

‘There’ll be six of us,’ said Albus. ‘Not five.’ 

Dimitri nodded. ‘We can arrange it.’ 

‘Thank you,’ said Scorpius. ‘And… thank you for covering it. Funds are going to be limited while we’re incognito. If I draw on my accounts, my father might notice.’ 

‘We are all on the same side, after all,’ said Baz, throwing a brief glare at Dimitri. ‘If you need more… send that elf to me. If he is secure. I have already been upsetting the Council lots; I would rather not draw their attention more than I must. But we shall see you tomorrow. Noon.’ He gave a curt nod, tugged on Dimitri’s shoulder and turned - and then they were gone, two men disappearing into the crowds of Monastiraki Square, leaving Scorpius and Albus behind. 

‘That was odd,’ said Albus, but started back the way they’d come. 

‘Baz is all right. He’d have either helped or made it damn clear he wouldn’t. He might be a crook, but he’s a straight-up guy. I’m not surprised he’s against the Council of Thorns. He’s got his own code.’ 

‘Though all this about your father…’ 

‘I know.’ Scorpius’ expression pinched.’ 

‘I’m sure it’s just his way, him wanting to fight back however he can.’ Albus hesitated. ‘He does love you, you know.’ 

‘No,’ said Scorpius, ‘I don’t. And - _Jesus_ -!’ 

This exclamation was aimed at Lisa, who appeared from nowhere in the crowd and slipped up beside Albus, expression calm. She looked at him, not breaking step down the narrow road they’d come from. ‘I am not supposed to be seen,’ she said. ‘That is the point.’ 

‘Are you supposed to give heart attacks?’ 

‘There were just the two of them,’ she continued to Albus, ignoring Scorpius clutching his chest. ‘They had no backup observing them.’ 

‘You mean none that you could see,’ said Scorpius. 

She looked at him, dark eyes assessing and dismissing him in that moment. He wasn’t sure he _liked_ the newest addition to their team when she was being tense like this. ‘I mean they had no backup. If I did not see them, they were not there. I’m a professional.’ 

‘This is what I meant,’ said Scorpius to Albus, ‘when I said “intense”. This. This is intense.’ 

‘I was watching you. Like we agreed.’ 

Albus lifted his hands. ‘And, thank you. It’s good to know that what we saw is what we got. If Scorpius says Baz is trustworthy, and we have no reason to think otherwise, that’s good enough for me.’ He sighed and looked about. Walls of peeling paint loomed over the narrow roads of Athens, the paving stones underfoot giving the sense of treading on thousands of years of history with every step. ‘A shame we won’t get to see more of here. I hope we see more of Syria.’ 

‘I hope,’ mumbled Scorpius, ‘that Baz isn’t just going to set us up in the cargo carriage.’

* * 

‘When Matt first got excited about all of this, I thought we were in for something swanky,’ said Scorpius as he ducked into the cabin. ‘He kept ranting about the Orient Express and the Taurus Express and so I expected… you know. Wood panelling. A proper dining car with linen on tables and candles and people to bring us our food. Instead…’ 

Rose sat up from where she’d been unwittingly napping in the bottom bunk. The journey from Athens to Istanbul had not been easy, nor had it been short, nor had they been granted more than moth-eaten and cramped seats for the long journey. While Scorpius had demonstrated his remarkable capacity to sleep anywhere, in any conditions, including snoring on her shoulder all the way from Thessaloniki while Albus flicked peanuts at him and only _usually_ hit, she was not gifted with such a talent. As such, the sight of a sleeper train with three reserved cabins waiting for them in Istanbul had been heavenly. 

But she was also hungry, and snacks for a journey longer than the Hogwarts Express had not been nearly enough, so her expression fell at Scorpius’ words. ‘If I have to eat another packet of crisps -’ 

‘I thought you might unleash untold violence. So how about a sandwich?’ He pulled his hand from behind his back, waggling the package at her, and made a show of jumping when she swiped for it. ‘Merlin, woman, you almost took my hand off!’ 

‘I’m a Weasley,’ Rose growled, ripping off the packaging. ‘I’m used to four square meals a day.’ The first taste of a processed chicken sandwich, after long hours along two long train routes, was divine. ‘Is Matt still complaining?’ 

Scorpius nodded and sat down next to her. ‘I thought you wanted to see Istanbul, too.’ 

Baz had pulled through. The day after their meeting in Athens they had been furnished with tickets and what looked like a blank piece of paper. Show it to the Muggles, Baz had said, when they asked for passports, and it would do the work from there. It was easier on trains, apparently, whose security was reasonably loose; they couldn’t have dreamt of using such charlatan magics on a plane. But it had done the job and got them to Istanbul, where they’d had all of thirty minutes to find the platform for their train due for Aleppo. Matt had not been pleased. 

‘I did,’ said Rose. ‘But I wanted to sleep and eat more.’ She wolfed down another mouthful of sandwich. 

‘That,’ said Scorpius, ‘is just the most attractive you’ve ever been; I mean, there’s a peanut in your hair and your eyes have gone kind of crazy and there are crumbs on your cheek -’ 

She swallowed quickly so as to not ruin the effect of glaring at him, but then he’d reached out to pull the peanut shell from her hair and suddenly she was a lot less angry. ‘…I’m glad we got three cabins.’ 

‘Does Selena snore? I bet she snores; Albus snores but I’m used to it by now.’ 

‘I _mean_ I was just about getting used to how things were on Kythos. Then I was sharing the bunkroom in the tent and you can’t exactly sneak in…’ 

‘I could,’ said Scorpius, flopping down on the bunk next to her, ‘but I think Lisa might shoot me. And once we get to Aleppo we’ll be on foot and in the tent again, so I think we only have two nights of this.’ 

She quirked an eyebrow at him. ‘How come _I_ _’m_ being the optimist here? This isn’t how it’s supposed to work. I’m meant to be practical, and _you_ _’re_ meant to be silly and charming at me. Or what else am I paying you for?’ 

‘Oh! Right! Sorry! Service with a smile, I do forget. I brought you food. Doesn’t that win me points?’ 

‘Right now? Yes.’ But the sandwich was gone, and so she curled up next to him, head resting on his shoulder. His arm slipped around her and already her eyes were drooping, like she could sleep here forever. And yet, she was not quite restful. ‘Do you think we’re doing the right thing?’ 

‘This castle? I don’t know. Even Matt’s not sure,’ sighed Scorpius, fingers playing with her hair. She always liked that; if someone stroked her hair it was normally enough to dismiss every woe in the world. ‘But we don’t have any better bets.’ 

‘I mean… hiding ourselves from the world. Letting them think we’re dead.’ She bit her lip. ‘I don’t want to imagine what I’m putting my parents through.’ 

‘They’ll understand. When it’s over, when we’re done, when we’ve got the Chalice and the Council of Thorns are beaten… they’ll understand. We’re not just doing it to keep ourselves safe, when they’ve clearly got some security leaks. We’re also doing it for them - and for anyone else, for people whose paths we cross, like the people of Kythos, like Baz and Dimitri…’ 

‘I know. But we’re still hurting them. It feels selfish. And then I think of the people of Kythos and revealing ourselves just so we feel better _also_ feels selfish… this was so much easier when we only had to worry about ourselves. I mean, we had to worry if we’d pull through for everyone at Hogwarts, but that was because if we failed, they’d suffer. Now, we can _win_ … and people can still suffer.’ 

‘Hey.’ He lifted a hand to her chin, tilted her head up to his. ‘This isn’t our doing. It’s theirs. It’s not our fault. They want to scare us, scare everyone into submission. Just by trying, we’re fighting them. You know that’s the right thing to do.’ 

‘Except we’re fighting them to save people. Getting people killed… there were _hundreds_ of people on Kythos, and they didn’t care, they wiped them out…’ 

‘They did,’ he repeated, and kissed her on the forehead. ‘Not us.’ 

‘When did you get so smart?’ 

‘I was always smart,’ said Scorpius. ‘I was just good at pretending.’ 

She sighed and closed her eyes, letting herself be lulled into the illusion of peace and security in this tiny, plastic-panelled cabin, doomed to either be gloomy or lit with sterile lighting, Turkish suburbia still rushing by the windows as night-time drew on. But she was here, at least, with him, and he always made her feel like nothing could be as bad as she feared. Since when had he done that, she wondered? Since Methuselah died, or earlier? Since hiding in the Forbidden Forest from centaurs with him, hunkering behind shelter and holding his hand without even thinking about it, like he was an anchor to safety… 

‘Do you want to talk about your father?’ she murmured. 

‘Never,’ he said, but his voice was airy, not blunt. 

‘Albus told me. About the bounty.’ 

His chest rose and fell with the deep sigh. ‘Of course he did.’ 

‘It’s quite a gesture -’ 

‘It means he’s still in with crooks,’ said Scorpius, voice a low rumble which vibrated against her cheek. ‘It means he wants vengeance. It means he’s willing to blow money on sending the message that nobody messes with the Malfoys. It’s the message, don’t you see? He doesn’t care a fig for me; he cares that the world has seen the Malfoys can be fucked with, and he wants to redress the balance.’ 

‘He’s your father -’ 

‘And it would be lovely if that _automatically_ meant he cares. But you and I both know it doesn’t automatically mean a damned thing. It doesn’t guarantee affection, and it _certainly_ doesn’t guarantee that he’s a decent person who _deserves_ my affection. Hell, Rose, six months ago you’d have told me to not care what he thought -’ 

She lifted herself up onto her elbows, fingers finding his lips to forestall the torrent of bitterness. ‘I’m not saying you should care what he thinks,’ she whispered. ‘I just don’t want to see you demonising him.’ 

‘He deserves to be demonised. You saw him at your house. How he treated me, how he treated _you_. Being my father doesn’t mean he loves me. Being my father doesn’t mean I should love him. Being my father doesn’t make him a decent person. And the fact that he had access to the thugs and brutes of the Council of Thorns, and yet we heard _nothing_ about this over the last few months, means at worst he’s _involved_ with them, and at best that he didn’t care to tell anyone. Not if it risked his neck, his _prestige_.’ His lip curled. 

Rose sighed, lifting a hand to brush his hair back from his forehead. ‘I do remember that letter at Christmas. And I remember thinking he was a hateful, bitter man who didn’t deserve to have a son like you. I hated him, then. I hated him for saying that to you then of all times, I hated him for how he’d obviously hurt you so, so much…’ 

‘He hurts people.’ Scorpius’ brow furrowed. ‘That’s what he does, he thinks of himself first and then he hurts people. And it’s… it’s part of why I despise myself when I get prickly and selfish. Not just because I’m unpleasant to be around, but I don’t want to be like _him_.’ His gaze met hers, hesitant. ‘I can’t pretend to be noble and say that’s why I pulled back in Paris. But it was a little bit the reason. The ice in the cocktail of my stupidity. A bit because… I see myself in him sometimes, and I’d hate to do to you, what he did to my mother.’ 

‘You’re not him. And I’m not her.’ 

‘Good, or this relationship would be even more messed up.’ 

Her lips curled, and she leaned down to brush her nose against his. ‘I don’t like the idea of hurting my family. But I don’t like that you’re convinced you’re not missed.’ 

‘It doesn’t matter. I’m not bothered by it. My father’s an arse, he’s always been an arse, he’ll always _be_ an arse. And so the people who matter to me, who _really_ matter… are here.’ His hands slid down her back, snaking around her waist to hold her close. ‘Don’t you worry about me. I’m the lucky one. Well.’ He smirked. ‘Aside from getting to live off pies, sandwiches, and crisps.’ 

‘We’ll be in Aleppo the day after tomorrow. _Then_ we get to go hiking through the Syrian desert. I think we should view this as pretty cushy.’ 

‘Yeah, except we’ve got these really cramped bunks and I like my _space_.’ 

‘I could go -’ 

But he’d tightened his hold and rolled back, trapping her in the enclosure of the bunk. ‘Oh, no, you don’t escape me that easily!’ She fell against him, giggling, hair dangling into his face, and her breath caught as their eyes met and she saw his expression - suddenly serious and apprehensive. ‘I didn’t say, before,’ he stumbled. ‘I liked it, too.’ 

She frowned. ‘Liked what?’ 

‘Kythos. Sharing a room. Us. The time together. It was - nice.’ 

Despite herself, she giggled again and planted a light kiss on his lips. ‘“Nice”. Selena was right, we actually are terrible about this talking thing.’ 

‘You talked to _Selena_?’ 

‘One, you weren’t talking, and two: yes. Women talk.’ Her fingertips played with the collar of his shirt, a gesture which started out playful but quickly became soothing. ‘I’m happy to take things slow. As slow as you want, really.’ 

‘I don’t really -’ His brow furrowed. ‘Why is this difficult to put in words?’ 

‘Because we’re not used to it. Because we’re still figuring this stuff out. How did you and Miranda handle it? And understand that you can use _broad_ strokes.’ 

‘We -’ He tensed a bit more, then exhaled, forcibly relaxing. ‘We didn’t talk, not really. Things just sort of happened. Did you? With Matt, or - or Hector?’ 

It was good to see he was just as awkward asking about her past experiences as she was asking about his. It probably made his worse that her ex-boyfriend was in the next room. ‘Much the same. Though, er, less happened. Honestly, aside from a little bit last Christmas, Matt and I didn’t have much more privacy than a corner of the Common Room and wherever we could sneak away to on prefect patrols. And even _less_ so with Hector, I only ever saw him out in Diagon Alley in the summer. But we should be, well, better. We should talk. So.’ She poked him in the chest. ‘Sex.’ 

He looked at her - then burst out laughing, a nervous laugh aware of how ridiculous the situation was, and she found herself laughing along with him. It helped. To know they were both as insecure and awkward as each other, to know it was daunting for them both, but to, together, acknowledge that it didn’t need to be, and by the time he’d stopped laughing he was a lot more relaxed, gaze thoughtful. ‘You know I think you’re great. And I’ve been having a _great_ time so far,’ he began, voice settling, though his smile remained. ‘And I don’t want to mess things up by either one of us racing into something we’re not ready for, just because we think… I don’t know, we’re supposed to?’ 

‘No, that makes sense. It’s not like we’re in a rush. It’s not like we’re going anywhere. And maybe it _was_ silly of us in Paris to let things get as far as they did without a proper conversation about… you know, what we wanted, boundaries, comfort level. We might have let the wining and dining get to us _both_ a bit too much.’ 

‘True, but it was the first proper night away where we weren’t in separate bunkrooms and I wasn’t unconscious from healing. We have had a grand total of three such evenings together, not including tonight but including Paris _and_ including getting woken up in the middle of the night with Fiendfyre.’ 

‘Which makes tumbling into bed together without _any_ kind of conversation _really_ dumb.’ 

‘It does.’ His lips curled. ‘So we take it slow and careful?’ He lifted a hand for his fingers to again play with that uncooperative, springy lock of her hair. ‘And slow is fine. Don’t you worry about me. Hell, bringing you breakfast in bed was a highlight.’ 

She couldn’t stop grinning like an idiot at that. ‘It was about the _best_ thing to wake up to _ever_. Not everything has to be deep and meaningful conversation, or deep and meaningful _not_ conversation. Sometimes we can just lie back and let the world go by.’ 

‘With a full day stuck on a train tomorrow, I think there’s going to be a _lot_ of that.’ He wrapped the lock of hair around his finger. ‘Still. We keep talking, I reckon we’ll be fine. If things move too fast… you just say?’ 

‘Of course, but don’t be an idiot about this - don’t you dare say, “I’m the guy, I’m supposed to be fine with things”. _You_ _’re_ allowed to ask to put the brakes on, too.’ 

He grinned. ‘I know. That _said_ …’ He leaned up, and her breath caught again, but his lips found the curve of her jaw instead of her mouth, and it was enough to send a shiver running through her. ‘You ever want things to move _faster_ … you just say.’ His hands at her hips slid up for his fingers to brush under the hem of her t-shirt against her bare midriff, and the thought shot through her that she’d spent a _long_ time sat on a cramped train and was _not_ at her best. 

Then she realised that this was him, and her, and she didn’t care because _he_ wouldn’t care. 

‘You ever dislike what I’m doing, you say, but if you _like_ it…’ His mouth trailed down to her throat, and she found herself tilting her head up, inviting him closer. ‘…tell me that, too.’ 

She tried to confirm that yes, indeed, more of this, please - but the noise which came out wasn’t particularly coherent, and she had to try again, clinging wildly to the strands of their mature and sensible conversation. ‘You know that goes for you - mmf -!’ 

Because then he’d flipped her over onto her back, pinning her down with his weight in one smooth, strong motion. That was enough to knock the thoughts out of her head, but then his mouth was on hers and that took any words away from her lips, too. Her fingers sank into his hair, pulling him closer, denying them both the chance to _breathe_ if breathing meant he had to spend one second not kissing her. 

_That was probably enough sensible and mature conversation anyway._

* * 

She had spent days assessing and evaluating them, up close and from a distance. She was learning every way they ticked, every nuance of their behaviour, every tell of a lie or an evasion or an uncomfortable truth. It was in what was left unspoken as much, if not more, than what was said; the details they avoided could be just as revealing. 

And now here, in the gloomy darkness of the boys’ cabin as the train rattled and trundled towards their distant destination, she was going to put it all to good use. She knew exactly where they were, exactly what they wanted, and she was going to destroy them within moments. And they would never see it coming. 

Albus asked her a question, and Lisa gave a thin smile. Of course he asked that. Of course he looked to the wrong place, missed what was right before his eyes, and in doing so, had told her _exactly_ what she needed to know. 

She raised her cards a half-inch and tried to not smile. ‘Go fish.’ 

After she’d won the game, Matt swore and gathered up the cards for another quick shuffle. ‘Son of a bitch. I should have had you with me playing cards in the Rabbit’s Foot -’ 

Then one of the wild cards from the Exploding Snap pack they’d thrown in, just to make life interesting, went off in his hands - and set off another, and another. Selena shrieked, and by the time the smoke faded Matt was sooty-faced and sputtering, the cards scattered about the cabin floor around him. 

And Lisa couldn’t help but join in the uproarious laughter that echoed out the door as their train rattled on the long route to Aleppo. 


	27. Lodestar

Aleppo was an ancient city, a mixture of ruined and preserved history stood proudly alongside modern buildings. After this long on trains, the opportunity to get fresh air and stretch their legs for more than five minutes somewhere better than a corridor made their destination positively divine. 

‘This city’s been ruled by the Romans, the Byzantines, the Seljuqs, the Ottomans - can’t we at least take a look around?’ said Matt as they stood outside a shop, waiting for Albus and Lisa to pick up supplies. 

‘We’re heading to a lost Crusader wizard fort in the middle of the Syrian Desert,’ said Rose. ‘Isn’t that going to be enough culture?’ 

‘First Istanbul. Now this.’ Matt sniffed as he watched the Muggle people of Aleppo going about their everyday lives, the sun blazing down on them with a heat to put Kythos and Monaco to shame. ‘This trip has no regard for culture.’ 

Selena rolled her eyes. ‘Have you even figured out where this fort is?’ 

‘I’ve got… a broad idea. I’ll have a better clue when I’m closer.’ 

‘Really? Or are you just hoping that you’ll know what you’re looking for when you see it?’ 

Matt sniffed again at Selena’s question, which Scorpius knew full well meant the answer was, ‘Yes.’ But instead he said, ‘I know what I’m doing. I’ve done my research.’ He sighed and looked up and down the busy street, the cars trundling along the road. ‘You know this used to be part of the old city? And then in the Fifties the French had huge swathes knocked down. For convenience. Buildings which had been here for _centuries_. Bloody French - uh, no offence.’ 

This last was to Lisa, stepping into the street with Albus, laden with heavy bags of supplies. She frowned at him. ‘None taken. Not that I care for history. But, yes. Welcome to foreign imperialism.’ She shrugged as Matt peered at her with confusion. ‘I’m from Algeria. Take a guess on my stance.’ 

‘Oh.’ Matt hesitated. ‘I liked Camus.’ 

She rolled her eyes, didn’t bother responding, and looked at Albus and Rose. ‘We should get out of sight, get these supplies stowed. Then this will be a long hike from the south-east. Three days?’ At this she did glance, reluctantly, back at Matt. 

‘I’d guess about that,’ he agreed. 

‘I’m studying the maps,’ said Rose. ‘So the more we keep track of our progress, the more we can cut corners with apparition. But I don’t want to take us huge distances when patches of the desert are going to look much the same as each other. Navigation through apparition’s difficult enough when I’m unfamiliar with the location; it’d be hell to be sure we wound up in the right placeout here.’ 

‘We’ll leave locater charms as we go,’ said Albus, setting off down the pavement with the calm confidence that everyone would follow him. Of course, they did. ‘We’re in no rush but I don’t want to spend a weekin a desert. Even if it’s just the outskirts of the desert.’ 

‘It can’t be too far east. Of course, the wizarding crusades weren’t subject to the limitations of geography in the same way the Muggles were, with apparition and portkeys to take into account, but they wouldn’t have fought a battle deepinside Muslim territory. Nor would they have set up a fort too far in, even if it was a site of magical importance.’ 

They reached the top of the rise, seeing the long street with tall buildings spilling out before them - and, beyond that, the sprawling expanse of the city. The old and the new, the sun reflecting off the light masonry, the walls of ancient Aleppo and the more modern constructions past that. Browns and whites were the prevailing colour, the city a hotbed of architectural mingling, of what had endured for over two thousand years next to all that had been rebuilt in the repeated desolation and suffering of this part of the world. 

And, beyond that, the rolling fields of the crops, of the olive trees, of the pistachio trees - and, far to the east, looking more like an ocean with the sun reflecting off the bright sands, their destination. The Syrian Desert. 

Selena sighed. ‘I’m going to need a parasol.’

* * 

‘There are certain ruins and locations out here we should head for,’ Matt said as they’d started to leave civilisation behind. ‘Not only do we then know where we are, but they’re mentioned in reference to Ager Sanguinis’ location. We’ll be sure we’re heading in the right direction.’ 

So their first target was some old Roman ruins miles to the south-east of the city, with Aleppo disappearing on the horizon behind them. They were greeted with nothing but sandstone and wind and dust, but it made for as good a place as any for a break. 

‘Bugger me, it’s hot,’ Scorpius complained. ‘I know that sounds, like, obvious. It being a desert and all. But it’s _bloody_ hot.’ He took a swig of water, and went to tug at his long-sleeved shirt. 

‘Keep it on,’ said Lisa. ‘Rehydrate and cool down with water. It might be tempting to take off layers but the exposure will be more dangerous.’ 

‘We should take a break in the early afternoon, when it’s hottest,’ said Albus, splashing water onto his face. ‘Use the tent, get in shade for an hour.’ 

‘That will slow us down.’ 

‘Then we push on for an extra hour in the evening. The tent’s put up with just a flick of the wand. We could set up camp in pitch black in about five seconds flat and still have shelter, warmth, and something to cook on.’ 

‘My only concern with that,’ said Matt, who was walking along the ruined remains of a wall, gaze lingering on the columns that still stood, as if trying to entrench in his mind a picture of how this place might have looked when whole, ‘is if we’ll get lost in the dark.’ 

‘Lost in the dark? We’re more likely to lose our way in the _day_.’ Scorpius stood, took another swig of water, and pointed to his right. ‘That’s north. We know that’s north because we’ve kept track of it since leaving Aleppo. And, okay, a compass and some locater spells. But at night time, in this part of the world, we’ll still be able to see Ursa Minor, find Polaris. North.’ 

Matt’s lips thinned. ‘And with all of these dunes about? Ursa Minor’s pretty low around here.’ 

‘Then we’ll find Cassiopeia and we can calculate from there.’ 

Rose blinked at Scorpius. ‘I always forget you’re quite good at Astronomy.’ 

‘Thank you?’ Amusement hovered about his expression. ‘Come for the jokes, stay for the obscure bits of whatever happened to catch my attention in class.’ 

‘Like how to blow up ingredients cupboards,’ she mused. 

‘And think where you’d be without that.’ 

‘I know, I’m so _glad_ to have got eyes of newt stuck in my hair.’ 

‘It’s not like I didn’t suffer for that. _Bat bogey hex_ , woman.’ 

‘At least,’ muttered Matt, ‘you didn’t have to put up with her Grade O strop in the common room when she got back.’ 

‘Ooh.’ Scorpius winced. ‘Sorry, mate. You were collateral on that.’ 

Rose looked between Scorpius and Matt, lips thinning at the sudden unity. So instead of responding, she looked at Albus. ‘Should we… I don’t know, be moving on?’ 

Lisa rolled her eyes. ‘Or the three of you could continue to bicker. That is, in fact, possible.’ 

‘It’s what we _do_ ,’ said Scorpius. 

Albus sighed. ‘Let’s keep moving.’ 

‘And don’t forget to drink frequently, even if you’re not thirsty,’ said Lisa, taking another swig from her canteen before she clipped it onto her belt. ‘You won’t always know you’re dehydrated until it’s too late. And eat the jerky.’ 

‘I’m not sure what animal this jerky is even from,’ said Selena, getting up from her seat on the ruins with a groan. 

‘It’s got salt in it. You’ll need salt. Eat it.’ 

That set the pace for their first day’s travel. They marched for another five hours with sporadic breaks until the sun was low in the sky and they found a rocky ridge where they could set up their tent in shelter. Wards would keep them safe from the mundane or magical detection, but it was easier if they only had to set up minimal protection against the elements. 

‘I wouldn’t even think of undertaking this trip if we didn’t have the tent or that bag,’ said Lisa as she finally sat around the large, round table, and refilled her water canteen from one of the larger bottles they’d stowed in Rose’s magic pack. The others had likewise collapsed onto chairs, checking their equipment, their boots, making sure they had no sunburn - all but Albus, who had gone right for the sink and was washing his hands so he could cook them dinner. 

Anything, so long as it was warm and filling, was destined to taste delicious. The fact that Albus’ cooking, which Lisa was becoming uncomfortably accustomed to expecting at the end of a day, was already delicious elevated it from pleasant to divine. But they were all tired, so dinner was spent in merciful quiet, broken only by Matt consulting his Book and making observations of their progress. 

‘If I’m reading this right, I’m expecting us to find some sort of ruins along these foothills, here.’ Matt ran a finger along the map on the thick parchment. ‘Which we should get to, if we keep up with this progress, the day after tomorrow, or so.’ 

‘These foothills aren’t _short_ ,’ said Albus. ‘We could spend days looking through them.’ 

‘Unfortunately so. Also, I don’t actually know _why_ nobody’s gone looking for Ager Sanguinis before - or why they don’t seem to have found it. There might be magical protections shielding it. I suppose there will always be places lost to the sands of time and, without any leads on the Chalice, it does just sound like a wizarding military holding for a war a thousand years old.’ 

Scorpius swallowed a mouthful of stew. ‘We’ll know it when we see it.’ 

Matt’s lips thinned. ‘I’m inclined to agree. I know that sounds half-arsed. But sometimes you have to be right in front of these things to figure them out, especially with magical protections.’ 

‘Or you’re right in front of them and still don’t see them,’ Rose pointed out. 

‘I’m open to ideas.’ 

Albus lifted a hand. ‘We’ll see when we get there. We have all sorts of clues, like knowing the magical signature of the Chalice, which could be an _enormous_ help. But, for now, let’s get some food and then get some rest.’ 

Hot food went down quickly and satisfyingly. Weary bodies tumbled towards bunk rooms, but as Albus gathered up the plates and bowls for cleaning charms, Lisa found herself reaching to help him. 

‘It won’t take two minutes,’ he said, waving her away as the others disappeared through the canvas flaps. 

‘With two of us, it won’t take one.’ It wasn’t that she wanted to spend time with him, specifically, or had some great domestic urge. But it felt odd, always, to sit by and have other people do things for her. Gratitude was not what motivated her, or so she didn’t think, so much as this being a simple redressing of the balance. He had cooked. She could at least not lounge about afterwards. 

But he smiled as he piled up the cutlery and bowls, even if he gave a low groan when he straightened, feeling his back. ‘I haven’t ached like this in a long time.’ 

‘It was a long day. It feels good to ache, though. Like we were doing something. Achieving something.’ 

‘Yeah, but this? I didn’t hurt this bad after the Rabbit’s Foot. After the ritual.’ His grin broadened. ‘I don’t think I felt this bad since my last Quidditch match.’ 

She had started to forget how young they all were. Especially him. But he grinned like that about a school sports game and it was like they weren’t hiking through the Syrian Desert to hunt down an artifact of ancient power in a lost magical holding. He was that schoolboy again, a thousand miles away from her and her life. 

And for just a moment, she envied him. 

‘I hope you won.’ It was the only thing she could think to say. 

‘We won the match. Lost the Cup. We’d already lost it, really, my brother captained Gryffindor to completely _wipe_ Ravenclaw, but… Hufflepuff were still ours to beat. And Scorp wanted to beat them.’ Something twisted in his expression, wistful and yet troubled all at once. 

She cast _scourgify_ a bowl. ‘You sound like you miss it.’ 

‘Quidditch?’ 

‘All of it.’ 

He blinked, gaze turning ponderous. ‘I suppose. It was an easier time. Nobody was trying to kill me. But at the same time, I don’t think I could go back. Too much has changed. _I_ _’ve_ changed.’ He shrugged. ‘I mean, could you go back?’ 

‘To before being abducted?’ 

‘To before you clearly had to learn to fight for your life.’ She looked up, startled by his words, but his green eyes were locked on her calmly. ‘You’ve been trained, but you fight like you needed it.’ 

There was a question in his expression, an invitation, and she found herself dropping her gaze, focusing on the next bowl. _What am I supposed to say? I was trained by a killer? I didn_ _’t have sports games and houses and fun little cup rivalries, I was carted around the world learning how to fight?_   
  
But it was the last bowl, and so she stacked it in the cupboard without answering. ‘That’s the lot. I’m turning in. Thank you for dinner.’ 

He straightened, brow creasing, shoulders tensing with guilt. ‘Oh. Of course. Sleep well?’ 

She turned without another word, went for the flap in the canvas which led to the girls’ bunk room, and tried to not think about how cutting him off had been like kicking a puppy. He hadn’t pushed, of course. He never pushed. He just opened the door, laid down the pavings, and invited her to talk, to open up. 

And the damning thing was that she wanted to. But that had been too close, not just too close to Eva but too close to the bone. Even if she could explain it in the context of Lisa Delacroix’s life, she wasn’t sure how to. How did you tell someone you’d taken your first life when you were fourteen? How did you tell someone you’d been elevated from an impossibly hard Muggle life into an impossibly hard magical life? This had been no salvation into a world of wonders. It had been salvation into a world of _power_ , but only if she fought and scrabbled and clawed for that power. 

She had. Thanks to Prometheus. 

But he wouldn’t understand. 

When she ducked into the bunk room, she’d expected to find Selena and Rose already asleep, already giving up on the long day behind them, one likely to be followed by a long day ahead. Instead the two were sat up, blankets around shoulders to off-set the encroaching chill of the desert at night, Selena with a wide grin on her face. Rose’s gaze was more cautious, and she looked to Lisa when she came in. 

‘If you have any excuse,’ she said, voice flat, ‘then run.’ 

Lisa’s gut tensed in that way it always did before a crisis hit. ‘What’s going on?’ 

Selena beamed. ‘We’re _talking_. Sit down. You’re just in time.’ 

‘No, seriously,’ said Rose. ‘Run.’ 

Lisa pulled herself onto the top bunk above Selena, ignoring the screaming in Rose’s eyes. ‘Is anyone going to explain?’ 

‘Yes!’ said Selena. ‘Rose is. Because now we’re no longer in the immediate aftermath of _death_ , we’ve got time to sit and talk, and for the last two nights _she_ _’s_ been disappeared off in a cabin with Scorpius.’ 

Rose sighed. ‘Yeah, this was inevitable.’ 

‘Oh,’ said Lisa as the penny dropped. ‘Girl talk.’ 

‘You sound so negative! Both of you!’ said Selena, hands flapping. ‘I, for one, _need_ to live vicariously through others if I’m going to remain sane on this long expedition of disaster, danger, and death. And also I need to know exactly what’s going on with Rose and Scorpius so I don’t put my foot in it.’ 

‘Because you’re usually so _careful_ not to offend,’ Rose pointed out. 

‘Stop evading and talk!’ 

Lisa’s brow furrowed. ‘I’ve seen interrogations gentler than this. I thought the point was sharing.’ 

‘Yes, and Rose isn’t sharing.’ Selena prodded Rose’s knee. ‘Come on.’ 

‘I feel so encouraged,’ Rose deadpanned. ‘It’s like this is a beautiful vista of understanding and openness and I remain confident my privacy will be respected, my words given all due regard, and my dignity will emerge intact.’ 

‘You’ve clearly been spending too much time with Scorpius; that was very good sarcasm.’ 

Rose flopped onto her back on the bunk, rolling her eyes - but as Lisa glanced down, she could see the grin tugging at the other girl’s lips. ‘Fine. _Fine_. We patched things up. He was all - am I silly and weak to forgive him, just because he apologised?’ 

‘That depends,’ Selena was saying. ‘Did you forgive him because he was making sense, or because he was being all adorable and puppy-like?’ 

‘Little bit of column A…’ Her grin broadened. ‘No, no, he… he took responsibility for what had happened, he was remorseful, he really wanted to make everything better. Not just for what happened in Paris, but what happened at Hogwarts.’ 

_I really don_ _’t care what happened in either place_ , thought Lisa, staring at the canvas ceiling. 

‘Did he _explain_?’ said Selena. 

‘He did.’ Rose sighed. ‘Miranda hurt him, Selena - she hurt him badly. That boy is a bloody mess sometimes, but he knows it. And I - I want to help him be better. I want to _be_ better. With him.’ 

‘Well. That’s incredibly mushy.’ There was, Lisa thought, a thickness at the edge of Selena’s voice. ‘So what _happened_?’ 

‘Happened?’ 

‘Oh, come _on_. You share a room at Kythos for a couple nights, and we _barely saw you_ on the train. You went into that third cabin and you did _not_ come out.’ 

Another hint of a giggle sounded like it had escaped from Rose, unbidden. Lisa still did not look down. ‘We’re taking it slowly! We - we got together _right_ at the end of things in Hogwarts, we might have been a couple for a few months but we’ve really not had that much time together with one thing or another. So… we kind of rushed into things in Paris, but we won’t again.’ 

‘I’m surprised he was okay with that.’ 

‘He’s _happy_ with it. It was both of our ideas.’ Rose paused. ‘Why are you surprised?’ 

‘Um.’ 

‘If this is more information from Miranda, I’m not sure I want to know -’ 

‘Eager! Eager was the word -’ 

‘I’m good! I don’t need to know!’ But Rose was laughing, and Lisa frowned at the canvas ceiling more. Sleep wasn’t going to come soon. ‘He _is_ pretty eager.’ 

Selena burst into cackling laughter. ‘Oh, that boy is mad for you, you know?’ 

Another pleased giggle escaped Rose. ‘I _know_ \- but - oh, you know what he’s like, silly and sardonic and that makes me laugh, but he can be so _earnest_ … And sweet. I don’t mean with things like chocolates and flowers, though he _does_ do that, he’s just so…’ 

‘Happy.’ But even Lisa could hear the sudden edge which had crept into Selena’s voice, and the word was enough to cast them all into a long, awkward silence. 

At last, Rose sighed. ‘I’m sorry.’ 

‘No, don’t be.’ Selena groaned. ‘You’re happy. I’m glad. I really am. Someone should be. You two deserve it. He’s clearly bloody head-over-heels for you. And you’d have to be, or you wouldn’t put up with his endless Scorpius-ness. And I asked because - I like hearing it. It’s gossip. I’m glad you two are good. I just… I miss him.’ 

The silence dragged on for long moments more, Lisa frowning at the canvas ceiling and wondering if she could get to sleep in this, but eventually there was another sigh from Selena. ‘And then some days I don’t miss him and I feel guilty for that. Same damn cycle. All over again. It’s slowing down, though. I’m spending more time _not_ missing him. Less time feeling like I want to die. And then I don’t… is it wrong that being “better” feels scary?’ 

‘There’s nothing wrong with being better being scary. But there’s also nothing wrong with being better,’ said Rose, voice gentler. ‘It’s cliché to say he’d want you to be happy, but he would.’ 

‘He was afraid I’d dump him when Phlegethon was over. That we wouldn’t make it in the normal world. And I assured him this wouldn’t happen, and I meant it, I _wanted_ it to work. I get scared, sometimes, that he would have been right. So it makes me scared that he’d look at me now, look at me if I ever move on, and think, “this was inevitable”. Of course I’d be with someone else, _probably_ someone more “normal”. Except, of course, he _can_ _’t_ think anything now.’ Selena sighed. ‘There’s nothing new to say. He’s gone, I’m still here. Eventually I’m going to get through a day without bursting into tears. And on that day, I think I’ll hate myself.’ 

Silence fell again, and Lisa rolled over, pulling her blanket up. The lights were not out, but dim, and she hoped, prayed, that this gloomy end to girl talk would be the end of it. 

Then Selena spoke again. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I mean, sorry to Lisa. Rose hears all this all the time. I didn’t mean to bring the mood down.’ 

Lisa paused, gathering words. ‘I think you’re allowed to be honest, considering what happened. If that happened to me, I would… I wouldn’t forget any time soon.’ It seemed such a wishy-washy assertion, but she had to get on with people. Be a part of this group. Be above suspicion. And it was difficult, at least, to not take _this_ pain seriously. This was something raw and real. 

‘Don’t suppose you’ve got any terribly fun tales of broken hearts left in your wake? You don’t have to talk. I know it’s not always fun. But I need some counter-point to Rose being so fucking _happy_.’ The sneer in Selena’s voice was a joke now, as was the indignant noise Rose made in response. 

Lisa chuckled. Humour that mocked happiness was easy to get. And she considered brushing them off, but that was Eva talking, not Lisa, not someone who had a job to do. She was to integrate and this was a time to share, to get into each other’s confidences. So she drew a deep breath, and searched her memories for a lie which would hold that essential truth. 

There was only one. 

‘The broken heart’s mine,’ she said at length. ‘I mean, it’s better. I think. I was young. But there was a guy.’ She rolled onto her back, giving an unwitting sigh. ‘My life didn’t used to be that good.’ 

‘We’ve guessed _that_ much.’ 

Lisa hesitated at Selena’s words. ‘You have?’ 

‘You don’t run around as wound up as you without some heavy-duty badness.’ 

‘Yeah.’ Her lips thinned. ‘I suppose not. But he was the one who took me out of the worst of it.’ _And then put me into a different kind of bad._ ‘He was older than me, I think he always saw me… at most, as a little sister. But he taught me, trained me - he was my superior in the service, my tutor.’ The dishonest elaboration was necessary, drawing a line in the sand between Eva and Lisa, giving Selena and Rose context whilst allowing the memory of Prometheus to become fuzzier, fictionalised. 

Though the feelings weren’t. ‘I don’t know who I’d be without him. Weaker, no doubt. And I… worshipped the ground he walked on. Wanted to do anything to help him. Please him. He didn’t give compliments or trust lightly, so when he did, it was worth so much more, I knew he wouldn’t do it without meaning it, and… he had a lot of people working with him, but I know he trusted me.’ _And yet, would send me off to die without batting an eyelid, just like he_ _’d send off Downing or the others to die if the job called for it._   
  
‘I know he’d never look at me that way. He didn’t see me that way. And I realised it a long time ago. But he was the one I wanted to impress. The one I… wanted.’ 

‘Where is he now?’ Rose asked gently. 

‘Probably in Paris. He might even be the one who sold me and the Professor out to the Council.’ In a manner of speaking, it was true. Prometheus had definitely played an integral role in the capture. ‘I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again, and if I do, he’ll probably just hear what happened, give me a nod and say, “well done”. That’ll be it.’ She’d long thought that would be enough. But it sounded awfully hollow in the echo of Rose’s joy and Selena’s loss. A pale shadow to the feelings running underneath both. 

There was yet another silence. Then Selena sighed. ‘We’re so messed up. This is the worst girly-talk ever. You’ve got some despondent obsession with a guy who barely knows you exist, my boyfriend’s _dead_ , and Rose is going out with Scorpius Malfoy.’ 

Rose snorted. ‘And my last boyfriend was a jerk who helped my worst enemy’s girlfriend cheat on him, and now I’m going out with that worst enemy.’ 

‘Ugh,’ said Selena. ‘And, to top it off, your boyfriend before _that_ was _Doyle_.’ 

Lisa frowned as the two broke into giggles below her - but despite herself, despite how silly the laughter was, it was also infectious, and she couldn’t help but join in. Just a little, and the giggling didn’t last very long before it faded into silence. 

This time, the silence lasted, and they could all three of them drift off into their separate, uneasy slumbers.

* * 

‘You’ve got a _look_ ,’ said Scorpius to Albus the moment he came into the boys’ bunk room. 

Albus stopped. ‘What?’ 

Scorpius sat up. ‘A look. Like you’ve seen a thing.’ 

‘As ever, your clarity is astonishing.’ 

‘Could you two _shut up_?’ groaned Matt from his bed. 

‘No.’ Scorpius stabbed an accusing finger at Albus as his friend went to get changed. ‘You’ve got a look, I don’t usually see that look on you, and I demand to know the cause of it.’ 

‘I really can’t help you if you don’t say what this look is. I was just doing the washing up.’ 

Scorpius gave a mock-gasp. ‘ _J_ _’accuse_! You were getting wistful about the washing up!’ 

‘Oh, my God, Malfoy.’ Matt put his pillow over his head. ‘I will stab you with my sword if you don’t shut up.’ 

‘Except _Lisa_ helped him with the washing up!’ 

‘I am not getting wistful about the washing up.’ Albus paused as he sat on the bed. ‘Okay. So we’re possibly going to all die and we’re hiking through the Syrian Desert to find some ancient Templar holding of death magic. But.’ He rubbed his eyes. ‘Lisa’s kind of cool.’ 

Silence fell. Eventually, Scorpius drew a slow breath. ‘That’s completely bypassed all of my clever plans to get you to open up.’ 

‘Oh, no,’ groaned Matt. ‘How will we live. Yes. Lisa is cool. And mental. And might kill us all in our sleep. I’m _tired_.’ 

‘Good argument,’ said Albus, and lay down on his bunk. ‘Let’s sleep.’ 

That was that for conversation, because Scorpius knew when to push it and when to not. But the thought kept fizzing in his mind, all the way through sleep, all the way through the next day, but he didn’t get a chance to act on it until the hike the day after _that_. The sand was making for hard going now, and so they were strung out on the march. He fell back from walking with Albus at the front to slink next to Rose. She had taken a middling position next to Selena, who was flapped at until she sighed and went to join Matt and Lisa at the rear. 

‘You’ve got your serious face on,’ Rose observed. ‘What’s going on?’ 

‘ _Super_ -serious.’ He pulled out his flask to have a swig of water, feeling the blazing sun of the open dunes taking its toll. They would take a break soon, an hour while the sun was at its zenith. The first day had been hard work to keep pushing through all hours of daylight. ‘It’s about Albus.’ 

‘Is he okay?’ 

‘I don’t know. I’ve never seen this before. It could be _disastrous_. I don’t know how to handle it.’ 

She looked concerned for a moment - then hesitated. ‘Wait a minute, if this was bad you’d be freaking out _way_ more.’ 

‘It could be!’ Scorpius looked up and down the line. Albus was still striding ahead, blazing the trail, shoulders squared. Of course. He was putting it on, Scorpius knew - he was as tired as anyone else, as worn down as anyone else, but he wouldn’t show it. He was the same in Quidditch, the tireless captain who never faltered no matter how bad the scoreboard was. 

Scorpius envied it and resented it. Not just through jealousy - he had long ago given up on being jealous of his friend’s life, that had been a childish petulance, though he sometimes wished he could emulate that composure and control - but it was a reminder that they both had their brick walls around themselves which they never let others slip past. 

He leaned down to Rose, marching on still. ‘Night before last,’ he said in a conspiratorial manner, making sure his voice didn’t carry to the trio at the back, ‘he said he thought Lisa was kinda cool.’ 

She quirked an eyebrow. ‘Kinda cool, or _kinda cool_?’ 

‘Oh, good, you know the difference. I think the latter.’ 

Rose thought as she swigged from the flask. ‘Oh, Al. You don’t like it easy, do you?’ 

‘I know? What’s wrong with girls who’re dazzled by his good nature, his smile, his laugh, his muscular arms…’ 

‘I don’t know,’ she said, looking at him, ‘but I think _you_ _’re_ dazzled by them.’ 

‘I’m a little dazzled.’ Scorpius smirked. ‘Seriously, I’ve seen him crush apples with his bicep when flexing - we were _very_ bored last summer, okay?’ 

She laughed. ‘How serious do you think this is?’ 

‘I don’t know. This is Al. He doesn’t _talk_ about girls. “Kinda cool” is about as far as it gets for him. It might mean that he thinks she’s hot, it might be that he wants to have lots of maladjusted babies.’ 

‘I don’t know, either. But I don’t think she’s exactly interested…’ 

‘In him?’ 

‘In people. She’s pretty serious-minded; I _somehow_ don’t think she’s here to kill Thane and find romance.’ 

Scorpius took a swig of water. ‘These things can happen.’ 

Rose smirked, reaching to squeeze his hand. ‘Do you think he’s bothered?’ 

‘He said it in an off-hand way when he came to bed, but he was chewing on something. They were both doing the washing up. Maybe he tried flirting.’ 

Silence fell as they both considered what Albus trying to flirt would look like. Rose took his water flask for another thoughtful swig. ‘No,’ she said at last. ‘No, I don’t think that’s what happened.’ 

‘How’d she seem when she came to bed that night?’ 

‘Like Lisa? Shut off?’ Rose sighed. ‘Selena wanted distracting, so we had a girly-talk session.’ 

Scorpius made a face. ‘Girly-talk with Selena sounds like _epic_ fun these days. With Lisa it must have been a laugh a minute.’ 

‘Admittedly it was more about me being interrogated. And Selena having another confession of woe - not that I resent her those. And a little bit from Lisa about some guy she once mooned over.’ 

‘ _Really_?’ 

‘Honestly, I think she’s a bit sheltered and went into a violent line of work. She probably had to study hard to get into it as young as she has, so I wouldn’t be surprised if she skipped boys and, you know, _fun_.’ Rose shrugged. ‘It sounds like she latched onto this older guy who treated her decently and it was this completely one-way thing. I bet she’s never had a normal relationship.’ 

‘Well, neither’s Al. And he treats everyone decently.’ 

Rose elbowed him. ‘You could _ask_ him.’ 

‘I did. He tried to fob me off, though - he’ll talk when he’s ready.’ Scorpius looked down at her. ‘How’d the interrogation go?’ 

She smirked. ‘Nervous?’ 

‘Selena _obviously_ already knows more than I’m comfortable with her knowing; this ship has _sailed_. I’m wondering how _you_ held up.’ 

‘Liar. I just told the truth.’ 

‘Oh, yeah? What’s that, then?’ 

‘Just that you’re awfully apologetic and keen to make up for things and _earnest_ and kind of crazy about me.’ 

He laughed and slipped an arm around her shoulder. ‘You just said that to give the impression of control; like you’re not _utterly_ bewitched by my fantastic charm and amazing hair.’ 

She chuckled and reached up for the collar of his shirt, pulling him around to her for a sudden, impetuous kiss. They didn’t usually act like this when everyone could see; he wasn’t sure why, it just didn’t feel like anyone else’s _business_ , but they’d barely talked in private since the hike had started. Water had never tasted sweeter than it had in the blazing heat of this desert, just like a kiss had never tasted sweeter than it did now, after days of no more than meaningful glances and grins. 

He’d come to a halt and broke the kiss, grinning like an idiot. ‘Remind me to do that more often, and to hell with everyone else.’ A part of him wondered if it was cruel to Matt, some ten metres behind them and incapable of missing this display. The rest of him couldn’t have given a damn if it broke Matt’s heart into little bits. He was here with her. He was hers. 

‘I got sick of tip-toeing around. They’ll learn to live with it.’ 

‘Hey!’ That was Selena, tromping along in the back. ‘Break it up, or we’ll be at our destination in about ten _years_.’ 

‘Yeah. Or if you’re going to be all charming, then share the love, _Malfoy_.’ That was Matt, his expression strained as he looked between the two, but the levity in his voice was sincere. Or, at least, he was trying. 

_Okay, so maybe I_ _’m a_ ** _little_** _sorry that sucked for you_ , Scorpius conceded, letting go of a blushing Rose. ‘You’ll just have to line up, Doyle, I can’t please everyone at once.’ 

Lisa rolled her eyes. ‘We really shouldn’t linger -’ 

‘Guys!’ 

Albus had the gift of raising his voice without sounding demanding or accusatory. He could do it as Quidditch captain to get everyone’s attention; just because he shouted didn’t mean that something was wrong. But the note in his voice now was _definitely_ urgent. 

He’d reached the top of the next ridge, and they had to struggle across sand to get up to him. Scorpius didn’t tarry, sprinting up the dune, and his breath caught as he took in the sight before him. ‘Bugger me.’ Then he grinned. 

‘What?’ Rose panted, reaching the rise with them. Then she saw it. ‘Oh!’ 

‘I… thought it would be hidden,’ said Matt when he got there, voice strained. ‘Protected.’ 

‘I guess not.’ 

For there, nestled against the cliff-face of the ridge, the one that had been their destination for years, with sunlight glimmering off the sandstone of the rock and the masonry alike, was the fort. The ruins were mostly in one piece; from here they could see masonry crumbling but the walls stood tall, proud, intact, at the top of a long path they could see winding its rocky way up and along the ridge. 

‘There it is,’ said Albus, grinning. ‘Ager Sanguinis.’ 


	28. Valley of the Shadow

When they started the march up the rocky path winding to Ager Sanguinis, the sun was high in the sky, enough to cast the craggy ridge in the same searing warmth as the rest of the Syrian Desert so far. But it was not a short trip, and as the day stretched on the sun passed over the peak and they were in shadow. 

‘This is good,’ Scorpius said to Rose, extending a hand to help her clamber up a steep part of path where he’d struggled. ‘I thought we’d get baked for the rest of the day.’ 

She gave him a wry look before she scrabbled up the path herself. ‘It makes it easier. So I _can_ climb by myself, you know.’ 

Her admonishment was gentle and joking, but it still made his gut twist. ‘I’m not allowed an excuse to be close to you?’ 

‘We’rehere to work.’ 

‘We said about an hour ago that we didn’t care.’ 

‘This doesn’t mean we cuddle halfway up a mountain.’ 

The group had again got strung out. It was inevitable on a long climb like this. Matt had taken up the front, his book in hand, with Albus beside him clearing the way. Lisa and Selena followed, and Scorpius and Rose had been happy to watch the back, making sure nobody fell behind. 

‘I think only you care about this,’ Scorpius muttered, and tromped on. 

_Of course, that_ _’s what she does. Hot and cold. Gets close then blows you off. Only warm and friendly on her terms._   
  
_Shut up._   
  
He scowled, and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. The sun was getting lower, now, this side of the ridge cast into gloom, and the next gust of breeze along the path was chilly. But it wouldn’t do to comment on _that_ , would it, and so they carried on in silence. 

Then Rose stopped, squinting up the path. ‘It’s getting dark quickly.’ 

Scorpius looked up. Out of the sun, the ridge had fallen into shadow much more swiftly than he’d anticipated. The others were silhouettes moving in a gloom that was rapidly losing the heat of the sun. As he watched Albus and Matt, far away at the front, step under the shelter of a rocky over-hanging, it was so dark he lost track of them entirely. 

_Probably talking about the hike. The fort ahead. Matt can keep up with Al on tactics, the threat, the history; it_ _’s probably_ good _for Al to talk to someone who can engage on these sorts of things. Bloody smart-arse Matt._   
  
Then the breeze came again, and this time it was a chill which raised not just the hairs on his arms, but the hairs on the back of his neck, and he heard Rose’s breath catch the moment realisation came thudding into his chest. 

‘This isn’t normal shadow,’ he gasped - and then they were engulfed. 

It was more than the sun going behind the ridge, it was like the sun had gone behind the _moon_. What looked like the gathering dusk came too soon, turning the others to vague shapes if they could be seen at all. The rocky edges of the path grew taller, more monstrous, and out of the corner of his eye it was as if they, and the shadows they cast, were moving. 

Scorpius whipped out his wand. ‘ _Dementors_!’ He didn’t know if the chill in the wind had torn his words away but then warning the others became the least of his concerns as the shadows loomed. ‘ _Expecto Patronum_.’ 

Silvery sparks sputtered from the tip of his wand - but nothing more than that, and Scorpius realised his heart was in his throat, every beat thudding into him the memory of the last time he’d faced Dementors, in the shadowy patch of the Forbidden Forest around the ritual where Methuselah Jones had died. 

_You weren_ _’t good enough. Powerful enough. You barely did your part, and you couldn’t stop him from dying. You’ll fail again._   
  
Then Rose’s hand grabbed his, and her voice was strong even if he could hear the waver at the edge. ‘ _Expecto Patronum_!’ 

A brilliant silver hawk burst from her wand with the echo of the bird’s cry. It was small but its wings blazed white light that brought a warmth enough to drive off the worst of the chill in Scorpius’ gut. Before it the shadows twisted, not yet Dementors but soon to be, though they writhed and shrunk back from the beating wings of the power and light of Rose’s patronus. 

‘You’re okay,’ she murmured. 

‘Of course I am.’ He meant to say it as a joke, because that was always easier in a crisis, but his voice came out earnest. ‘I’m with you.’ 

She grinned, her smile a light in the darkness as they stood shoulder to shoulder. ‘Every time.’ 

‘Every time.’ And his patronus came with the next incantation, the silvery fox bursting forth to drive back the shadows on his side. The two spiritual beasts made a barrier of light, a circle of illumination with them at the heart of it. 

‘We need to move. Forwards, get to the others, get _through_ this,’ said Rose, looking up the hill. 

‘Agreed.’ They began up the path, their wands extended, the hawk and the fox keeping a vigil at the flanks. None of the shadows had yet manifested as a full-blown Dementors yet, but the energy was around them, that same gloom and pain of a breeding ground they had confronted in the Forbidden Forest. That same unnatural darkness born of death. ‘Where _are_ they?’ 

One answer came at once, far up the hill. A burst of silver light blossomed, first like a pinprick in the gloom and then like a wave, and when it coalesced into a corporeal form, relief burst in Scorpius’ chest as he saw the shape of Albus’ horse patronus. It was a long way off, plunging into shadow up the path, but it was there and fighting back the shadow. Even if he couldn’t see Albus or Matt, they would be safe. Al would see to it. 

‘Scorp.’ Rose’s voice was taut, somehow not sharing his relief. ‘Do you think Lisa can cast a patronus? Do you think Selena can cast a patronus _any more_?’ 

They burst into a sprint, clambering and clawing their way up the path by the light of the patronuses that raced at their flanks. Lisa had shown herself powerful, Scorpius thought, but a patronus wasn’t just about power - it was about guts and will and _joy_ , and if there was one word he didn’t associate with her, with her tension and her fury, it was joy. 

Nor did he associate it with Selena, not trapped in the darkness once again. 

‘Selena!’ That was Rose, and while instinct told him to stay silent, he knew it was pointless. The Dementors would know them whether they spoke or not. They would come for them. 

But it did get something’s attention, and the shadows shifted in front of them as what he’d thought was an outcropping of rock moved. Scorpius’ fox lunged, making the path seem to move underfoot as shadows rippled - then he tripped on rock, went sprawling. He hit the ground hard, landing on his bad shoulder, the same shoulder he’d landed on in Monte Carlo, and the breath was knocked out of him. 

‘More of them!’ That was Rose, standing over him as his fox patronus threw itself into the darkness to their left and she faced off against the darkness on the right. Silver light blazed across her, lighting up her hair, lighting up the edges of her scared face, determined eyes. 

And the shadows came. This was not that mere energy, mere shadow. These were the tall, robed figures, clawed hands reaching out from under shrouded cloth, the veils stretched across eyeless faces and endlessly black maw, the beings themselves finally here. Dementors. 

_No time to get up_. Scorpius rolled to kneel, and whipped his wand at his patronus as tendrils of darkness lashed out at the fox, doing his utmost to pour more energy and strength into its being. They were set upon by all sides - but together, _together_ , and so long as she was with him, he could stand against the shadow. 

But there were more Dementors on the right side, and he heard Rose give a grunt of effort as she, too, tried to reinforce the hawk that slashed with beak and talon, flapped its shrinking wings, and at the last surge of energy the patronus gave a shrill, determined bird’s cry. 

Another Dementor pounced before Scorpius, swinging into the side of his fox, and he swore as it dissipated under the attack, his will tiring, his determination tiring. His free hand again reached for Rose’s as he gritted his teeth, summoned his discipline, summoned his memories. 

_‘I want you. I want this. You make me smile, and you make me laugh, and you make me feel beautiful - and you make my heart soar, and you make me think, and when I’m with you I can never be alone.’_   
  
First, the fox sprung from his wand, reformed and rejuvenated. Then the cry of Rose’s hawk patronus was answered from somewhere in the gloom above. 

Scorpius’ heart lunged back into his throat as he saw the silvery wings of an enormous eagle patronus come thundering down upon them. And it was as glorious and powerful as it had been in every one of his memories, every one of his dreams. 

_That_ _’s impossible_. 

The eagle swept into the Dementors before Rose, knocking them back as if they were nothing more than dead leaves before the beats of its mighty wings. It cawed again, Rose whipped her hawk around to reinforce Scorpius’ fox and, between the three of them, the circle of silver light grew greater and greater. 

Scorpius clambered to his feet, he and Rose clutching each other so desperately it was impossible to tell which of them needed the other to stay standing. ‘What the hell is going on?’ he bellowed as the Dementors shrieked and pulled away, the fierce darkness beaten back by the glorious light. 

‘We’re winning! Don’t question it!’ 

As suddenly as it had started, it stopped. The ring of silver light around them reached the rocky shadows from which the Dementors had sprung and it was enough to break the spell. The darkness faded with rippling tendrils and they could see the sky again, see the Syrian Desert stretching out behind them, see the rocks of the ridge and see the path sprawling its way up towards Ager Sanguinis. 

The patronuses dissipated and Scorpius groaned, still with one arm around Rose in an iron hold, and he looked up the hill. His gaze found the two furthest silhouettes first, the broad form of Albus and lanky form of Matt. They were too far away for him to see their condition, but that didn’t matter right then. Albus was alive and upright. That was all that mattered. 

_Where the hell did that eagle come from?_   
  
Then he saw the other two. Lisa was on her knees on the path, and from here he could see her shoulders shaking - fatigue? Fear? _Tears_? He wasn’t sure he dared guess. And any consideration he would have given the matter faded when he saw Selena stood over her, hair a wild mess, the wand in her extended hand fading with the silvery light of a dissipating patronus. 

Scorpius’ heart sank as he realised where the eagle had come from. ‘Shit.’ 

Rose grimaced. ‘Yep.’ There wasn’t much else _to_ say. 

Even from here he could see the tears streaming down Selena’s face, and she didn’t wipe them when she slipped her wand away, turned from the sickly-looking Lisa who was clambering back to her feet with dogged determination, and set back to storming up the path, shoulders tense. 

‘Is everyone all right?’ That bellow came from Albus, who was supporting Matt as they stumbled towards them all, and Scorpius just raised a hand to wave an affirmative, not trusting himself to speak. 

Because he could still hear, echoing in his mind, the cry of the eagle patronus. Just as he’d heard it moments earlier when Selena had cast it. Just as he’d heard it months ago at the time, and nights ago in his dreams when Methuselah Jones had cast it, and sacrificed himself.

* * 

It took another hour before they made it to the top. The sun was fat in the sky, but they still had long hours ahead of them before sunset, and the shadows did not crawl down again. 

‘We could always camp here and take a look tomorrow,’ said Albus as they reached the final rise, looking to the tall outer walls of Ager Sanguinis. The gates had long succumbed to time and the elements, the archway showing a large, open courtyard on the other side which remained bathed in sunlight. ‘Come to it fresh.’ 

‘Oh, come on,’ said Scorpius. ‘That might be sensible, and we probably _will_ have to spend the night up here as I doubt we’re going to investigate and get back down before it’s dark. And I’m not going back down that way at night. But let’s face it - we’re not going to be sensible and rest when our destination is _right there_.’ 

Matt lifted a hand. ‘I agree with Malfoy, so you know this is pretty serious.’ 

‘Also, last time we snoozed with plans of investigating a creepy castle the next day, _someone_ went ahead of us.’ Scorpius was going to look accusingly at Selena, remembered the patronus, and so glared at Matt instead. 

‘…I just had your back.’ 

‘I’m capricious.’ 

Albus rolled his eyes and looked to the girls. ‘Thoughts?’ 

Selena shrugged. ‘I can go ahead.’ 

Rose nodded. ‘The boys aren’t wrong, I’ll probably be beside myself trying to get some sleep and knowing that place is right there.’ 

‘There’s no telling if we’ll be safe at night against another Dementor incursion,’ said Lisa. ‘We can’t guarantee the effect is limited to that section of the path. So we might find ourselves camping right on top of one of their breeding grounds. Or, we’re about to march into one of their breeding grounds.’ 

Scorpius looked at her. ‘You’re just brimming over with optimism, aren’t you?’ 

She shrugged. ‘After a run-in with Dementors? I’m a realist.’ She looked at Albus. ‘I would feel better if we assessed the fort rather than spent the night next to the powerful and unknown.’ 

‘I agree,’ said Albus. ‘Matt, have you found more about this place?’ 

‘ _Lots_ ,’ said Matt with a beam. ‘But of what you’d consider _useful_ …nothing we couldn’t guess. This was a military fort but, first and foremost, used for their research. It was military only in that the Christian wizards didn’t want the Muslim wizards to secure somewhere like this.’ 

‘A hub of necromancy after an enormous, bloody battle, sprouting Dementors. That sounds familiar. Do you think this is something that was always important, just school doesn’t like teaching us about these bits of dark magic, or if it’s magic only now coming into use by groups like the Council of Thorns?’ said Rose. 

‘I don’t know. I want us to keep an eye out, though, for signs of records, signs of those motifs I saw which match up with the alcove in the catacombs, and any references to Reynald de Sablé.’ 

‘Do you know where in there we’ll find that lookalike to the alcove?’ Albus asked. 

‘Afraid not.’ 

Albus sighed and drew his wand. ‘So, as always, let’s take a look.’ 

After coming so far, after fighting through Dementors, after struggling their way across a desert and up a hillside, Scorpius had rather expected passing through the gateway into the central courtyard of Ager Sanguinis to be more imposing. There would be sparks, perhaps, of some magical protection, or he’d sense something as they crossed the threshold. 

There was nothing but the sunlight that bathed the sandstone courtyard, reflecting and dazzling in faded yellows and pale browns. Ahead and to the sides the walls were not an outer ring, but the walls of a keep which had been built into the cliff-face itself and so curved around them. Dead centre was a huge pair of double doors, part metal and so still sturdy after all these years, but to the left and right were similar doorways. 

‘With the cliff-face this close, it’s hard to tell how deep into the mountainside it’s built,’ said Matt, looking about. ‘I ‘d wager the main entrance will go deepest, but that also goes up; look.’ He pointed his wand at the upper levels, ten metres above their heads, where masonry jutted out of the rock-face. ‘I’d guess that’s a watchtower.’ 

‘Do we start ahead, then?’ said Albus. 

‘I hate to say this,’ said Scorpius, ‘but we want a preliminary sweep done _before_ night falls. We’ve got three doorways and only a couple of hours. We should split up.’ 

Albus sighed. ‘I hate that idea. I hate more that you’re probably right.’ 

Matt nodded. ‘I’d ask to take the main doors, though. We’re most likely to find something significant that way, and I’m the one most likely to recognise it.’ 

Rose slunk up alongside Selena and took her arm. ‘In that case,’ she said, ‘Selena and I will take the left door.’ 

Scorpius looked at her, caught the urgency in her eyes. There were unspoken girly codes going on and he only understood about one word in ten, but the message was clear. After the Dementor run-in, Rose wanted to keep an eye on her. He sighed and looked at Albus - then he remembered the Dementors. ‘I’ll go with Doyle. We should make sure at least one person per group can cast a patronus.’ 

Albus looked at Lisa and nodded. ‘Then we go right. Give it one hour, then we check back here, you understand? I want some wiggle room in case things go wrong.’ 

They went their separate ways, the other four disappearing through the open doorways by the time Matt and Scorpius had crossed the courtyard to get to the biggest doors to the main keep, sturdy and closed. Matt waved his wand, determined there was no magical barrier against touching the door, and pushed it. Nothing happened. 

‘Oh, good,’ said Scorpius. ‘We get the locked door.’ 

‘I’ve barely tried, yet,’ said Matt, lips thinning, though an _Alohomora_ did nothing. He lifted his gaze and frowned at the masonry around the door-frame. ‘That’s writing there, Latin… “ _Et ecce equus pallidus: et qui sedebat super eum, nomen illi Mors, et infernus sequebatur eum_ ”. Something about a pale horse, the name of death… and hell.’ He straightened with a jolt, and when he continued it was like reciting from memory, not translating. “ _And I looked and behold, a pale horse: And his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him_ ”.’ 

Scorpius’ nose wrinkled. ‘Why are Templars quoting Johnny Cash?’ 

‘What? It’s from the Bible, you idiot. Revelation. Armageddon. All that good stuff. Though Armageddon was technically a mountain…’ 

‘It’s from a Johnny Cash song.’ 

‘I’m _pretty_ sure the Bible got there - ugh.’ Matt rolled his eyes and pulled out his Book, muttering to himself until words scrolled across the parchment. A quick peer over his shoulder confirmed that he had, indeed, brought up the Book of Revelation, but he swatted Scorpius away. ‘Try and find some magical way through while I look for a clue.’ 

‘The others are inside,’ Scorpius observed, but he moved for the door. ‘While we’re stuck on the doorway. So much for us being the informed team.’ 

‘ _I_ _’m_ the informed team. _You_ _’re_ a handicap.’ 

Scorpius rolled his eyes and swept his wand across the doorway, muttering as he ran through some detection charms. ‘There _is_ a magical security component. I think it wants a password. I _could_ break through it, but this looks pretty old.’ And he wasn’t really sure he could break through it. 

‘Of course it is.’ Matt slammed the Book shut and straightened. ‘ _Veni, et vide_.’ 

He didn’t just speak. Or, he did, but it didn’t feel like it; it felt like import rolled off every syllable in a wave which Scorpius, his detection charm still up, could feel slam into the doorway - and then the protection charms were gone, and the doors swung open with a low, ominous creak. 

Scorpius didn’t lower his wand, even though all they could see on the other side was a dusty chamber. ‘” _Come and see_ _”_?’ 

‘Yep.’ Matt slipped his book back into his bag. ‘It was worth a guess.’ 

‘I hate to say it, but that was pretty badass. You got all Latin, and shit.’ 

‘“ _All Latin, and shit_ ,”’ Matt echoed with a smirk. ‘I’ll put that on my application to the Curse Breakers.’ 

‘ _As recommended by Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy_. They’ll love it.’ 

Matt snorted. ‘Let’s take a look.’ 

Their footsteps rang out in the gloomy, open hallway, echoing like thunder as the first human sounds that might have reached this place in hundreds of years. It was all bare stone, a long passageway with a tall ceiling, likely once the most splendorous of sights in this entire fort but now nothing more than dust and dusk. 

‘Do you have any idea,’ said Scorpius as they padded along the hallway, ‘why the Templars were so mad keen to secure this place?’ 

‘Their own studies. And to stop the Muslims from getting it.’ 

‘But why? What could they do here? I just can’t shake this thought that we’re dealing with a location _very_ similar to what Thane used to spawn Phlegethon in the first place. Is it possible this is what the Council of Thorns were after all along? That it’s not just about the Chalice, but all of the research that’s gone into it?’ 

‘I don’t know.’ Matt’s lips thinned. ‘I don’t like these theories either. That the Chalice could be used for Phlegethon and Eridanos is one thing; that it’s linked to them, or is linked to magic _like_ theirs? I don’t know.’ 

‘But why would they bring the Chalice here? If they made this place to contain and control a site of Dark Magic and necromancy…’ 

‘The obvious theory which springs to mind is to cleanse it,’ said Matt. ‘But obviously that didn’t work. And that sounds like _far_ too optimistic a thought, anyway.’ 

Scorpius snorted, and looked to a passageway to their right. Time and its ravages had brought the ceiling down, blocking that corridor off completely. ‘You’re learning, then.’ 

‘Learning?’ 

‘That nothing’s easy.’ 

Matt rolled his eyes. ‘You don’t need to pull this, “I’ve been around the block more than you” horse shit, Malfoy. I was at the Rabbit’s Foot, Badenheim, I found the alcove in the Catacombs. I don’t need -’ 

Scorpius lifted a hand. ‘Sorry. That was a joke, Doyle. Not everything I say to you is a snipe.’ 

‘Oh.’ Matt scowled as he looked at the doorway at the far end of the hall, the chamber beyond shrouded in shadow. Then he drew a sharp breath. ‘I see you and Rose are…’ 

‘Yeah.’ It seemed the only diplomatic thing to say. 

‘Well. Good.’ 

‘Good?’ 

Matt shrugged. ‘I could, you know, beat myself about the head and curse you, but so long as she’s happy. I was pissed at you in Monaco because you were jerking her around. You don’t seem to be jerking her around.’ 

‘So _glad_ I meet your approval.’ 

‘Hey, come on, Malfoy.’ Matt straightened, brow furrowed. ‘I’m not saying you and I be best mates. I’m saying - hell. I’d rather lose to a man who’s not jerking her around and is making her happy than lose to someone being a complete arsehole to her. Or a complete and utter meat-head prick.’ 

There was bitterness in there, and Scorpius stopped, pity twisting in his gut. ‘I don’t - this might not help. You know Hector was her rebound from you? She didn’t pick him _over_ you. She wanted the opposite of you.’ 

Matt looked surprised, then smothered his expression in a quirked eyebrow. ‘She wanted the opposite of me - that’s really _not_ helping.’ 

‘You know what I mean!’ He groaned. ‘She didn’t just say, “hey, he sucked, now I fancy some neckless moron I can’t hold a conversation with”. He was easy and uncomplicated. She needed him to get past you. She didn’t just shrug and move on with her life, it took _work_ to get past you.’ 

‘So she could get over me and be ready to be with you.’ 

‘I’m…’ Scorpius stopped. ‘No, I’m not sorry she’s with me. I’m sorry it sucks for you, though.’ 

Matt waved a dismissive hand. ‘I’ll get over it. Get over _her_. I guess I just needed to see you two together for myself. I thought the world had gone mental when I woke up from Phlegethon and learnt from Hestia you two were together - ugh, _Hestia_. You know how she told me? Came to see me at home, all _concerned_ , and _fussing_ , but obviously _bursting_ to tell me so she could complain about you. She didn’t come to break it to me gently, she came to be pissed off about _you_.’ 

Scorpius frowned. ‘Girls. What did I do to Kirke, anyway?’ 

‘Made jokes. I don’t think she knows what fun is.’ Matt’s lips twitched, and he paused as they reached the final doorway, the room ahead shrouded in darkness. ‘This isn’t a big deal. It doesn’t need to be a big deal. I’ll get over her, because I should, and - and you better not be a prick to her again, you hear me? Or I’ll be an incredibly presumptuous arsehole who acts like Rose needs me to fight her battles for her, and kick your arse.’ 

‘I should be indignant at that,’ said Scorpius. ‘But I think I’d deserve it.’ Then he sparked a _Lumos_ at the tip of his wand and went into the dark chamber. 

_Plummeting. Wind rushing past him, hands flailing, grasping, trying to find his purchase on something, **anything** but the cool metal in his hand - and finding only air._   
  
_Then the ground - no, that **nothing** \- racing up towards him, all-black, all-consuming, and when he hit there was a sense of the endless, swirling void -_   
  
_And then no sense at all._   
  
‘Malfoy? _Scorpius_!’ 

Breath, sweet, sweet oxygen raced into his lungs, and with a gasping gurgle his eyes snapped open. He was still inside Ager Sanguinis, in the gloomy chamber now illuminated by the tip of Matt’s wand and built of the same plain, well-made sandstone masonry. But he was on his back, his heart pounding in his chest, his lungs were burning as if he’d been choking, and Matt was bent over him. 

‘Jesus _Christ_.’ Matt kept his grip on his shoulder firm, not letting him rise. ‘No - no, you _stay_ there, damn it, something’s wrong.’ 

‘I - what happened?’ 

‘You crossed the doorway, then you _keeled over_ , and you weren’t breathing when I got to you - what happened?’ 

‘I felt like…’ Scorpius lifted a hand to his chest, and could feel his heart trying to crawl its way past his ribcage. But at least it was beating. ‘Like I was falling. And then - then like I _wasn_ _’t_ falling. Like I hit ground, only, not _ground_ , something else… where the fuck are we?’ 

Matt straightened and lifted his wand, murmuring an incantation for the bead of light to leave the tip and go upward, expanding and spreading. Their view of the chamber grew with it, showing them in a huge, rounded room, four equidistant doors around the walls. The ones to the left and right were shut, but the one ahead showed a passageway beyond, and steps twisting and winding upward. On one side the roof was crafted masonry; on the other it was the ragged stone of the cliff Ager Sanguinis was built into, and far above, so far that sunlight couldn’t make it through, there was a round opening to the sky beyond. 

None of this drew the eye until later, however. Because their gazes were locked onto the centre, and what lay there. 

For a heartbeat, Scorpius thought it was a pond. There was a stone rim, and the gloomy surface inside rippled and shifted under the light from Matt’s wand. But just a moment’s glimpse made it clear this wasn’t water; it rippled, yes, but it _flowed_ , and some of the waves were insubstantial when he squinted at them. The grey was not from the darkness - whatever was inside _was_ grey, shimmering like silk in a breeze. 

‘Holy shit,’ breathed Matt. ‘I know what this is.’ 

‘A creepy as fuck water feature?’ 

‘It’s a _Veil_.’ Matt’s voice was hushed, reverent as he approached. ‘They’re - they’re like passageways between the worlds of the living and the worlds of the dead. I know they’re usually found on places where the gap between worlds is at its weakest, but I don’t know if they spring up naturally or if they have to be constructed. _This_ must be what the Templars were guarding - either it was created by the battle, or they _created_ it after the battle, maybe to contain the necromantic energies springing forth…’ 

‘Not completely contain, not if those Dementors on the path were any indication.’ 

‘Yeah, but - think about it. Everything you described about Hogwarts said that patch of the woods was _constantly_ black, constantly spawning Dementors. This wasn’t. I think it might have needed people with emotions for the Dementors to feed off in the first place. Possibly because the Veil here was containing it, or some of it.’ 

Scorpius did notapproach the stone rim. ‘Doyle.’ His voice was thick, and he could taste bile in the back of his throat. ‘Matt. I think I saw myself _die_ , Matt.’ 

Matt looked up, eyes owlish in the gloom. ‘What?’ 

‘I think that’s what happened. I think I keeled over because I was seeing myself die.’ 

‘Okay.’ Matt obviously had no idea what to say to that. ‘Okay. Well. Let’s find the others. And we can all go over this together, right?’ 

_Rose. I need Rose. And Al. I need them both_. Scorpius gave a shaky nod, and stepped forward. ‘Yeah. Let’s get out -’ 

Then the bright, unmistakable lights of a Stun flew over his shoulder from the main door, through the spot he’d been stood in a heartbeat before, and hit the stone rim of the Veil.

* * 

‘I know why you’re here,’ said Selena, leading the way down the gloomy corridor with, Rose thought, uncharacteristic determination for a not-especially-talented witch investigating an ancient site of magical power. ‘And I’m fine.’ 

‘You’re _not_ fine,’ said Rose, sweeping her wand across the passageway, trying to check for any magical presence - traps, defences, a clue - before Selena blundered on top of them. ‘And _that_ _’s_ fine, you know that?’ 

‘Would -’ Selena came to a sharp halt. ‘Would people stop _saying_ that?’ 

‘Saying what?’ 

‘That it’s fine to not be fine! I know it’s fine! And I’m fine!’ 

‘Your patronus -’ 

‘Is _his_!’ She whirled around, eyes blazing, hair wild. ‘Of _course_ it’s his, you think I can summon a happy memory which _isn_ _’t_ him, you think I don’t think of our last night together, our first kiss, every awkward damned - of course it became his, because whatever I do, even thousands of miles away he is still _here_!’ A fist pounded on her breastbone. 

Rose drew an uncertain breath. Do you want to talk about it?’ 

‘No!’ Selena turned on her heel and continued stalking down the gloomy, plain corridor. ‘I want him gone! Gone from my mind, gone from my heart, gone from a piece of magic which is supposed to _define_ my fucking _identity_! I am sick and tired of everything I _do_ being about him, sick and tired of every conversation, every _thought_ , eventually coming back to how I had him, I lost him, _he_ _’s_ dead and _I_ _’m_ alone! I am sick and tired of how I did a fucking _amazing_ piece of magic even _I_ didn’t know I was capable of, and all _anyone_ thinks is, “that poor girl, Methuselah Jones is dead”.’ 

‘I… I wasn’t belittling it -’ 

‘I know! But it’s all _any_ of us is thinking! Even me!’ 

Rose stayed silent, tromping in Selena’s wake. She didn’t think they were going to find much down these gloomy, bare corridors. Occasionally they passed rooms which were more like cells, and she guessed they had been sleeping chambers for the knights and wizards of the monastic order, but all was bare. The Templars had left this place long ago. 

She wondered why, if the Templars had been so desperate to claim this spot to stop anyone else from having it, the Muslim wizards hadn’t moved right in. Maybe it was the Dementors. _Then_ she wondered if the Dementors had been an intentional guard, encouraged and grown by the Templars, and resisted a shudder. It would make sense, and was hardly more barbaric than using them as jailers in Azkaban. 

‘…it was a really good patronus,’ she said at length. 

‘Oh, _fuck off_ , Weasley.’ 

_I probably deserved that._ Rose suppressed a sigh. It wouldn’t do to get offended by Selena. On the one hand, her friend didn’t want pity, and it felt disrespectful to give all her behaviour a free pass because of Methuselah. On the other hand, she knew that her aggravation wasn’t about _her_ , and so getting on her high horse wouldn’t help anyone. 

And she’d decided to pair up with her to help. Maybe helping, right then, was the two of them getting on with things. 

‘Okay, so, what do you think we’re looking for?’ 

‘ _I_ am hoping to find nothing immediately wrong so we can set up camp for the night and worry about all the tiny nerdy details in the morning.’ 

‘There’s the possibility we’ll find nothing at all here,’ said Rose. ‘This is just a theory of Matt’s.’ 

‘You believed in it enough to come here. You trust him that much.’ 

Rose wrinkled her nose. ‘He’s -’ 

‘You know he’s still _mad_ about you, right, and gets all puppy-like whenever you shore up one of his ideas or suggestions?’ 

‘He’s not -’ 

Selena stopped and turned yet again, ignoring the stretch of gloomy, abandoned corridor. ‘Oh, shut up, Weasley, don’t be a sodding idiot all your life. I think he’s pulling on his big boy pants and getting over it because it’s obvious you and Scorpius aren’t going anywhere, but you _know_ he asked you to the Rabbit’s Foot that night to try to put the moves on you, you _know_ he’s been pining over you since _forever_ , and you _know_ you dumped him, that it wasn’t a mutual breakup. Or else you wouldn’t be so self-conscious about being _openly_ affectionate with Scorpius.’ 

‘I’m not -’ 

‘You’re not making a secret of being together, but you have the good grace to not stick your tongue down his throat in front of Matt. Mostly. Usually. I mean, _I_ _’m_ grateful for not having it rammed in my face. But it’s because of Matt.’ 

Rose folded her arms across her chest. ‘So? And what am I supposed to do? I’ve not led him on!’ 

‘No. Impressively, for you. But I am _sick_ of you sticking your head in the sand, just because you dodged a bullet in Monaco, and while you’re not really doing anything _wrong_ , you’re kind of skirting around the problem, pretending it doesn’t exist, because then you might have to confront the truth about Matt.’ 

‘I have - what the hell are you talking about?’ 

‘You loved him, and you dumped him because it was too hard!’ 

Rose rocked back as if struck. ‘I - what?’ 

Selena shrugged. They’d got to a closed door by now, a rickety wooden thing, and she paused to give it a critical look-over. ‘Things were hard between you two, but you didn’t know what would happen if you stuck it out, if you worked at it, so you bailed when things got tough. And you convinced him it was for your best, but then you _had_ to go out with Hector because -’ 

‘This stuff is a _year old_ , Selena! I’m with Scorpius! I’m happy with Scorpius! I’m not projecting or anything! This is the truth!’ Rose cocked her head. ‘I get what you’re doing. You’re hurt, and so you’re doing the Scorpius thing of trying to make _me_ hurt, too.’ 

‘You broke up with him, and because he hates fighting with you, or did hate fighting with you, he went along with it in the hope some day you’d change your mind - and he thought you wouldn’t if the breakup was too vicious -’ 

Rose grabbed her by the arm. ‘This is _old_ ,’ she repeated. ‘It’s done. I _know_ he’s still had feelings for me - I’m not an idiot. Did I over-analyse them? No! Because it didn’t _help_! I got on with _my_ life, I didn’t give him mixed signals, I patched things up with Scorpius - this isn’t all that messed up! Matt knows the score! Scorpius knows the score! _I_ know the score! Stop trying to make _drama_ because - what, that makes you superior to stand and watch everyone else being so _silly_ while you know better?’ 

She hadn’t intended it as a blow. It was meant to be an observation, harsh but the truth, because Selena maintained her haughty distance by being an analyst of the game, not a player. Even in her silly dalliances with boys before Methuselah, she had kept a certain appearance of being above it all because she had never been too invested. And now she was trying to turn the situation with her and Matthias into something worse than it was, instead of, actually, pretty well dealt-with for something Rose had never addressed directly - because addressing it directly would only _hurt_ Matt - because that gave her that sense of superiority. Control. 

Instead of the free-fall Selena had been in since Methuselah died. 

‘While I know better.’ Selena’s face went cold. ‘I love a dead man. _That_ _’s_ hardly sensible.’ Then she reached for the door, twisted the handle, and yanked it open. 

And the last thing Rose knew was the wave of blackness which poured out from inside and consumed them.

* * 

‘So,’ said Albus as he took point on their advance down the corridor, ‘the other night. I didn’t mean to make you feel awkward.’ 

Lisa took a long time to reply. ‘The other night?’ 

‘When - the washing up. You were - I didn’t mean to press.’ 

‘Oh. You didn’t.’ 

‘Right. Good.’ Albus frowned, not breaking pace. They were methodical, sensible. Checking corners. Checking the bare stone rooms. And finding in this, this place Matt had hoped would give them answers, absolutely nothing. ‘You just keep yourself to yourself a lot.’ 

‘Do I?’ 

‘I know the rest of us are friends. Mostly.’ He thought of Matt and Scorpius and wrinkled his nose. ‘But we’re in this together. We have each other’s backs.’ 

‘I know. I’ve got yours right now.’ 

But the words were clipped and almost cold. ‘I mean, we don’t just have to struggle through this alone. Emotionally.’ 

‘I’m not struggling emotionally.’ 

‘Oh. Good.’ Another frown. ‘Just if there’s anything you want to talk about, I’ll listen.’ 

Another pause. ‘Thanks.’ 

He wasn’t used to being brushed off, Albus realised. He offered a shoulder to cry on and people took it, and he’d never taken pride in that before now. He didn’t try to be comforting or reassuring; he just tried to _help_ , and people found him helpful. He’d been deflected in the past, usually by Scorpius and occasionally by Rose, but he’d known something was up for sure, knew that time and patience would work. 

This was a brick wall, and he wasn’t used to running into those. 

Perhaps he was just being an idiot. 

‘Okay,’ he said as they at last turned this corridor to find a rickety wooden door ahead. ‘I’ll open it, you clear it?’ 

This had her more responsive, moving up next to him, wand braced in a two-handed grip. ‘I’m on it.’ 

That was when she was at her most emotive, he realised. When she was working, ready to fight, coiled for action. Then she burned with an intensity he found impressive - and worrying. And then, in the quiet moments, especially since they’d left Kythos and that edge of raw vulnerability had faded for more prickly defensiveness, she was all walls and control. 

He should just do the job and get out of this damned fort, Albus realised, and reached to push the door open - 

And then there was darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The writing on the doorway is, as Matt says, from the Bible, Revelation Chapter 6, Verse 8. Scorpius recognises it because it’s quoted as the final lines in the song ‘The Man Comes Around’ by the late, great Johnny Cash. Matt’s translation - ‘And I looked and behold, a pale horse: And his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him.’ - is accurate._
> 
> __‘Veni et vide,’ or, as Scorpius reasonably accurately translates to ‘Come and see,’ (’Draw near and see,’ would be an acceptable translation, but again, Scorpius’ knowledge of Revelation is coming from Johnny Cash) is a repeated phrase from Revelation, uttered by each of the four living creatures upon the breaking of the first four seals._ _


	29. The Fallen

‘Oh, no, everything’s gone fucking abstract again,’ Rose groaned when she realised she was stood in her front garden back home. ‘I am sick of this existential -’ 

Then she saw herself standing at the front gate, Albus on the other side of it, and stopped. Her other self looked worn and tired, cheeks sunken, face pale. Her hair was tied back in the tight, no-nonsense manner she only opted for when something was so wrong that so much as thinking about her looks was too much hassle. 

Albus was in a similar state. He wore a beat-up jacket she didn’t recognise, his travel bag slung over his shoulder. A cut above his eye, not properly seen to and splitting the eyebrow, was swollen and gave him a perpetual squint. She couldn’t hear the two of them yet, but they seemed to be arguing. 

‘You should hear this,’ said a voice to her left, and Rose whirled around. 

‘ _Tim?_ Tim Warwick?’ 

The thirteen year-old boy looked much as she remembered him, which she supposed was inevitable in a constructed reality she suspected was drawn from her own imagination. He wore his Hogwarts uniform, little Slytherin tie tightened up to the neck with the precision only a first or second year could achieve, blazer buttoned up. In some ways she was surprised she could even recognise him, let alone conjure a picture of him - he had been nobody to her, just some kid in another House, who had only mattered when he’d died. 

But that had cemented him in her imagination well enough. 

‘No. Yes. Sort of.’ Tim shrugged, then pointed to the gate and repeated, ‘You should hear this.’ 

She looked at herself and Albus. ‘What is it?’ 

‘Death.’ 

‘Oh. Good. Something useful.’ _You_ _’ve been spending too much time around Scorpius._ ‘What’s _this_?’ 

‘If you don’t listen,’ said Tim, irritation creeping into his voice, ‘you won’t learn. They can’t see you.’ 

‘Fine. Fine! I’m going.’ She tossed her hands in the air and crossed the garden, stepping into the bright sunlight and approaching Albus and her alter-ego. 

‘…running away!’ her alternate self was snapping as she came into earshot. 

‘Running from _what_ , Rose? What on _Earth_ is keeping me here?’ Albus sounded as hurt and as angry as she’d ever heard him. 

‘How about me? How about your family?’ 

‘None of you _need_ me.’ Albus took a step back. ‘And I can’t - I can’t be here. I don’t know how I’m supposed to be here. I don’t know what I’m supposed to _do_.’ 

‘You think I do?’ The other Rose looked away, eyes slamming shut. ‘He’s gone. I wake up every day and he’s _still_ gone. You think I know how to cope with that? You think I know how to go on -’ 

‘Yes,’ said Albus sharply. ‘You’ll go back to school, you’ll study hard, you’ll build a career and a life and you’ll go on -’ 

‘And you _can_ _’t_? I know you’ve been hurt, Al, I know things went wrong, so _very_ wrong, but -’ The other Rose’s voice was breaking by now, grief shattering and tumbling across her, and the real Rose’s breath caught as she saw what it looked like from the outside. Not pretty. ‘…I’ve lost Scorpius, how am I supposed to cope without _you_ , too?’ 

Albus looked for a moment like he might go to her - then he took a step back and hefted his pack. ‘I don’t know. But you’ve got people around you, Rosie. I just - I can’t be here. Everything’s too hard. I’ve got to get away, I’ve got to get _somewhere_ , anywhere but here, someplace they - the memories - aren’t.’ 

‘It’s not over,’ said the other Rose through tears. ‘The Council’s still out there. Thane’s still out there. He _sacrificed_ himself to stop them…’ 

‘No. He was _murdered_ , and it didn’t stop them, they’re still out there. What do I care?’ 

That brought the other Rose up short, and she drew a slow, raking breath. ‘I don’t know. Nothing, I guess.’ She looked away. ‘Go, then, Al. Just - just run away. I’ll stay here. _Of course_. With our families.’ 

Uncertainty crossed Albus’ face - then he took a step back and turned on his heel. ‘Bye, Rosie,’ was all he managed, then he was storming down the long road away from the Old Rectory, pack over his back, a lone figure striding off into the sunlight. And Rose watched as, the moment he was out of sight, her doppelganger burst into tears so strong they took her legs out from under her, collapsing into a sobbing mass at the garden gate. 

For long moments she couldn’t do anything but stare at this scene of her own agony framed by the lilacs of the hedgerow, a grief which reminded her so uncomfortably of Selena. ‘What is this?’ 

‘Death,’ said Tim simply. ‘Isn’t that obvious?’ 

‘Scorpius’ death. The aftermath.’ The world was fading around her, turning to an inky blackness, and something loosened in her chest as she didn’t have to hear her own sobbing of loss and abandonment. ‘But when?’ 

‘When do you think?’ 

‘That’s not an answer.’ Rose chewed on the inside of her cheek. ‘Either it’s something to come… or it’s something that could have happened.’ Something cold and solid settled in her gut, and at the chill in her bones she latched onto the first thought that sprung to mind, because it was more pleasant than the alternative. ‘I - she - said he sacrificed himself. The ritual? Is this - is this what could have happened…?’ 

‘That’s a good theory,’ said Tim. 

‘He sacrificed himself, not Methuselah.’ She started to pace in the utter blackness, because even in a void it helped her think. ‘Albus ran. I became a mess. But - why am I seeing this? Why are you showing me this?’ Then she squinted at him. ‘I’m going about this all wrong. First: where am I?’ 

‘You know.’ 

‘I _suspect_. Death magic, seeing things that aren’t there - I should be in the Syrian Desert and instead I’m seeing a _hypothetical_ grieving scenario of something that never happened. Probably constructed from my own imagination of what would have happened if Scorpius had died.’ 

‘You’re getting somewhere.’ 

‘…so, overwhelmed mentally by necromantic energy, probably not in a _harmful_ manner but enough to suppress my conscious mind…’ She continued pacing. ‘My mind’s constructing scenarios related to death. And you’re here. Which is weird.’ 

‘Of course, that means this is _only_ happening in your head. Which means I’m not really here.’ Something cold tugged at Tim’s expression. ‘Which is handy, as it means you can’t be blamed.’ 

She stopped short. ‘Blamed?’ 

‘For my death.’ 

Rose turned to face him - and then he wasn’t the neat little figure in the Hogwarts uniform any more. His skin was pallid, his eyes were glazed over, unseeing, and when he spoke again, his lips and the inside of his mouth were stained black. ‘For that _cure_. The one that _killed_ me…’ 

She stumbled back, a ragged gasp escaping her throat. ‘Ph- _Phlegethon_ killed you -’ 

Tim’s corpse took a tottering step forward. ‘Because of that elixir. It made it work faster. Work away in my _heart_ faster. It would never have happened without you…’ 

‘Okay.’ She tried to keep calm. ‘This isn’t only happening in my head because I never felt guilty for that, so this is something… outside.’ 

‘Good! If this was just in your head, I couldn’t be here,’ came a new voice from the darkness, and then tall figure was striding from the gloom to stand beside her. The voice was familiar, she just couldn’t place it. So was the face, but that didn’t make _any_ sense, and the new figure pointed an accusing finger at Tim. ‘Oi. You’re not real. Piss off.’ 

Tim’s corpse’s face twisted, muscles stretching into an impossible leer of black lips. ‘I’m as real as you -’ 

‘No. _He_ passed on. _You_ _’re_ just a shadow. Now, _scram_. This one? She’s with me.’ The new arrival gave a wave of the hand, and the inky blackness reached out for tendrils to wrap around the form of Tim’s corpse - and drag it disappearing into the gloom. 

Rose turned to her new companion, realisation sparking in her head. ‘I know who you are! Fred Weasley!’ 

Her uncle, fresh-faced and twenty-five years younger than his identical twin, turned to her with the same lopsided grin of Uncle George, the same smirk her father used when _particularly_ smug. ‘Guilty as charged. You’re a smart one. Which, I suppose, is inevitable, isn’t it?’ He poked her in the shoulder. ‘You must have your mother’s brains. Definitely not my brother’s.’ 

She frowned at the accusing finger. ‘Why are you poking _me_? You’re the one who’s - is this real? This can’t be a figment of my imagination, why would I imagine _you_?’ 

‘Is this real? The answer to that is, well. Yes and no.’ 

‘I hate that answer.’ 

‘Patience, young apprentice.’ Fred clasped his hands together with an expression of mock-serenity. ‘All will become clear.’ 

‘Will it?’ 

‘Yes, when you shut up and let me explain.’ Serenity was short-lived. ‘You’re standing in a place where the passages between life and death are at their shortest, the walls are their weakest -’ 

‘I know that.’ 

‘Will you stop being a smarty-pants and listen?’ 

Rose folded her arms across her chest and looked at her uncle, the uncle for whom one of her cousins was named, the uncle whose death had cast a shadow over his brother for a quarter-century. ‘Fine.’ 

‘This place is, like, _pulsing_ with necromantic energy. Poorly-contained. The Veil only does so much to contain it, though it’d be a damned sight worse without it. For most people, that’s not a problem. It gets weird - voices, memories of lost ones, that kind of thing. You got unlucky. You were here with someone who pretty much, if you forgive the term, _lives_ death.’ 

Her gut twisted. ‘Selena,’ she breathed. ‘Where is she?’ 

‘Somewhere else. Trapped. You’re not in too bad a state, because you just got dragged along with her. So you got to see that shadow of the dead boy. That little row between you and Ginny’s kid.’ 

‘Albus.’ 

‘Albus - yeah, Harry’s _terrible_ with names. Seriously. I’m glad Ron married Hermione. Are you the _only_ little family unit who doesn’t have names of dead people or _French_ people everywhere?’ 

‘Er, technically, Hugo was named for Victor Hugo, who was French -’ 

Fred waved a hand. ‘You’re all mental.’ 

‘That thing I saw,’ Rose pressed. ‘What was it? Something to come? Something that _could_ have come?’ 

‘I don’t know,’ Fred admitted. ‘But if it’s not happened, then I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Fate, destiny, that kind of thing - I reckon it’d be something that _could_ have been, or something you’re _dreading_ , rather than something carved in stone. ‘Cos things don’t get carved in stone, you see?’ 

‘I see.’ Her lips thinned. ‘If Tim was a shadow, why aren’t you?’ 

Fred hesitated. ‘I… waited.’ He shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I’m dead, and that’s fine. People said nice things at my funeral. I got to be funny _and_ a hero. How many people can say that? But when you die, you get only limited options. If you’re really messed up, congratulations, unfinished business and you get to be a ghost. Or you can pass on, and then you get - I don’t know. Discombobulated into the great big thing.’ 

‘Is that the technical term?’ 

‘When they were handing out the Weasley genes, you got “red hair” then skipped right over “fun”, didn’t you?’ 

‘I would say you skipped over “making sense”, but I’m not sure that’s a Weasley gene.’ 

‘Touché.’ Fred inclined his head. ‘I stuck around. In these little passages, these little nooks and crannies between life and death. I’m not a ghost, I’m not stuck, I can go any time I like. And I can’t communicate, no, only ghosts can do that, and you don’t want to be a ghost.’ He suppressed a shudder. ‘That’s bad business. Lots of wailing. And I don’t look good in white. But, I can _see_. Watch. Most people don’t - what would they do, torment themselves over how they can see a life they can’t touch?’ 

‘But you’re not tormented?’ 

‘I’m a little tormented. Bit of angst, keeps me interesting, you know? It’s not so bad. I got to see how everyone got themselves back together after the war. And I would have passed over then - usually people don’t stick around for long like this. Husbands waiting for wives when they’re both old, that kind of thing. I’ve seen a lot of people come and go. And I hope I see a whole lot more. I’m in no rush to move on.’ 

Rose swallowed. ‘You’re waiting for George.’ 

‘We came into this world together. We’ll leave it together. Don’t get me wrong. Give him another fifty years. Another hundred years. I’ll sit here and watch, laugh at his jokes, finish the punchline, even if he can’t hear it. But when it comes to going into that great big discombobulating ball in the sky, we’ll go out together.’ 

She stepped across the inky darkness, reached to put a hand to her uncle’s arm. ‘He misses you, you know? I never even knew him with you, but I know he misses you.’ 

‘Yeah.’ Fred gave that same dismissive, one-shouldered shrug she’d seen her father do when he wanted to brush off something heavy and emotional. ‘Though you should think long and hard about what you’ve done to the family.’ 

‘Me?’ 

‘Them thinking you’re dead.’ His lips thinned. ‘It’s not something to mess with.’ 

‘I - I know.’ She looked away. ‘I just want to keep them safe.’ 

‘Ah, so you did get the “hero” genes. They’re good. They’ll make you do dumb things, but it’s usually worth it.’ 

Rose managed a smile, then lifted her gaze. ‘I need to get out of here. With Selena.’ 

‘I don’t think you have a choice about that. She’s what’s tethering you here. At worst, you should have just been having wacky memories of the dead kid screaming or something. You’re not all stained with death, not like she is. And not like that other one is.’ 

‘Other one?’ 

‘The one with you. That girl, that crazy, crazy girl.’ Fred made a face. ‘You should be careful of her.’ 

‘Lisa?’ 

‘Is that what you call her? Yeah. She’s - ugh. I can’t -’ He flapped his hands. ‘I can’t really tell you things about the living you don’t already know, or It’s going to get _pissed_ …’ 

Now her eyes widened. ‘What the hell is “It”?’ 

‘We’re not talking about that.’ Fred shook his head. ‘Lisa. That one. Albus is with her, anyway. She’s not tethering you here. She’s tethering _him_. But - you should worry about yourself, first.’ 

She hesitated. ‘And Scorpius? And Matt?’ 

‘They’re fine. Well. I mean - they’re not _here_. Your young man’s had a little bit of an upset, but he gets those a lot, and _by the way_ what the hell are you doing with a Malfoy?’ Fred’s voice swerved mid-sentence, attention drawn at last to that particular nugget. 

‘I like him!’ 

‘He’s a Malfoy!’ 

‘He’s not like his father! Or his grandfather!’ 

‘I should hope not! We don’t want a torturer or a murderer in the family.’ Fred folded his arms across his chest. ‘But, he’s fine. And the Doyle boy’s fine. Ha, I used to upset his mum _so much_ when she was a Prefect…’ 

‘I’m _shocked_. But, the real issue. You’re saying I’m stuck here until Selena gets out?’ 

‘Pretty much.’ 

‘Okay, so she’s trapped.’ Rose’s lips thinned. ‘She’s stuck in some sort of prison of watching Methuselah die over and over and I’m going to have to break her out of it, aren’t I?’ 

‘The last part is right,’ said Fred. ‘You’re going to have to drag her out of here, one way or another. But you’re wrong about where she is. It’s much, _much_ worse.’

* * 

Sunlight woke Selena, sunlight streaming through a gap in the thin silk curtains and spilling across the fine cotton sheets in which she was entangled. She stirred with a groan, felt the soft mattress beneath her, the luxurious feather pillow under her head, and blinked to find herself surrounded with an opulent comfort she hadn’t seen since Paris. 

Only it wasn’t Paris. She thought it was a hotel room - there was that sense of uniformity to it, where although the bed was wood-carved, the mirror frame exquisitely ornate, it was like a hundred had been made to be just as perfect. The sunlight spilling through the curtains was dazzlingly bright, brighter than Paris had been, and when she slid out of bed she peered through a gap to see nothing but a shimmering stretch of ocean. 

She was in the nightclothes that were all that was left of her belongings after Kythos, her favourite and most comfortable, but there on the dresser was her makeup bag - 

\- which had been lost in Kythos. Selena squinted. 

She wasn’t meant to be in a hotel next to the dazzling sea. She was meant to be in a dusty fort in the Syrian Desert, trying to make Rose feel terrible so she felt better. And then - then a door. Then blackness. Then this. 

Where the hell was she? She wasn’t going to find out in the bedroom. So she padded to the door, pushed it open to find herself in a suite which sparkled with that same perfect opulence, comfortable seating leading to a balcony beyond which tumbled a paradise of warm, tropical greenery. But it wasn’t that view that her gaze settled on. 

It was who was sat on the balcony. 

Methuselah Jones was still in his pyjamas, but he looked up at her footsteps and put his paper to one side. ‘Morning. Sorry. Didn’t want to wake you.’ 

Her jaw dropped. ‘This isn’t possible.’ 

‘No? You are difficult to wake. On occasion. Not simply for heavy slumber. Disturbing you is, occasionally…’ His voice trailed off, and that hesitant smile of his crossed his face - only less hesitant, like he was more used to it, more used to smiling at _her_. ‘Undesirable. Preferable to let you sleep.’ 

Numb, her feet carried her across the suite and to the balcony, where the morning’s rays bathed her in a dazzling warmth. ‘I… what time is it?’ 

‘Ten. Your mother won.’ Methuselah picked up the paper and extended it to her. ‘Of course. Chairman of the International Wizarding Convocation. Landslide result.’ 

She took the paper, checked the headline - checked the date. May 12th. Today. But she wasn’t in Fort Ager Sanguinis, she was… where was she? ‘I…’ 

He cocked his head and got to his feet. ‘Are you all right? You seem - diverted. Uncertain. Sleep was -’ 

But he was close, too close, too _real_ \- flesh and blood and right in front of her, his hair scruffy from sleep, his eyes so dark through his glasses, tall and long-limbed and long-nosed and _here_. She took a step back. ‘I - I don’t know what’s -’ 

Methuselah’s gaze went sympathetic. ‘Bad dream?’ 

_A dream. A dream. Was this all just a dream? Have I been trapped in a dream since Hogwarts?_ Her next breath choked her. ‘Yes. A bad dream. You were - Hogwarts. The ritual. You died -’ 

Then he’d crossed the distance and she was in his arms, wiry rather than strong but warm and close and _here_ and it was too much, all too much, and the tears were coming like they always had. But now she could sob into his shoulder, into his chest, and the smell and feel of him filled her head, just like it had at Hogwarts, just like it had in her dreams. 

_Is this the dream? No, no, say it_ _’s not, or I don’t want to wake up, I don’t ever want to wake up…_   
  
‘I know. Could have done,’ murmured Methuselah, his breath, his warm, living breath tickling her ear. ‘But Scorpius. Quicker than I expected. Didn’t think he’d do it. Didn’t think he _could_ do it, thought he was dooming himself…’ He gave a heavy groan. ‘Underestimated him. And now he’s dead.’ 

_Scorpius died. Not Methuselah. Not my Methuselah._ Her hands clutched fistfuls of his nightshirt. ‘I dreamt it was you, that you stopped him and you died, and it was horrible…’ 

‘But not real.’ He was sitting down again, easing her next to him on the sun lounger, and she pulled her feet up to curl up against him, small and cradled in his arms and in the most perfect place in the world. ‘Not real. Just a dream. We are here. Moahu. Away from Hogwarts. Your mother. Politics. The Council. For as long as you want.’ 

_Moahu. Small island, Pacific Ocean, wizarding getaway of luxury and opulence. The ideal holiday destination_. So she’d fled here, away from Britain with all of its anguish and politics and the continued threat of the Council of Thorns, and taken him with her to the other side of the world. 

It sounded like the sort of thing she’d do. 

She sat up with a start, blinking back tears so she could see him clearly, see his face, see his eyes - eyes blocked by the glasses, and she reached up to pull those off with trembling fingers. He didn’t resist, sat there with his arms around her with a surprised expression, and gave that hesitant smile as her fingertips traced a line down his cheek. 

The last time she’d touched his face, he’d been a corpse. ‘Look at me,’ she whispered. 

He blinked again, but then his eyes were on her, soft and dark as the blackest chocolate in the sun, always as if they were absorbing every detail of the world before him - and the world before him was her. ‘How could I not?’ 

‘I love you,’ she breathed. ‘Losing you - I was nothing without you, Methuselah, I tried to be my old self but I was just this childish _wreck_ \- either selfish and superficial or _broken_ … I tried to go on, I tried to be useful, I tried to be strong, but everything, _everything_ came back to you - just you. I was nothing without you.’ 

‘You are not nothing.’ He leaned in, nose brushing against hers, lips only heartbeats from hers, but he didn’t close the distance, not even at the weak, whimpering sigh which escaped her at his closeness. ‘Not just because - I am here. With you. Going nowhere. But you were - to say you needed me - laughable. Did not see you, then ‘ _make_ ’ you, then love you. No. You were perfect before me. Beautiful. Intelligent. Inspiring.’ He gave his small smile, just a flash of teeth. ‘Could not have done all that was done at Hogwarts without you.’ 

Then she was pulling his lips down to hers, kissing him with every ardent need that had pounded through her in the months, in the _lifetime_ since she’d lost him - and he was kissing her back, and this wasn’t just an illusion, wasn’t just a dream. He was real, flesh and blood, a thudding pulse under the warm skin at her fingertips. 

He broke the kiss for only a heartbeat, only for long enough to breathe, ‘I love you,’ against her lips, breathe her name against her lips, and then she was lost again in the kiss. Because this wasn’t an anguished admission of loss, or desperation, or even anxiety - he said it like he meant it, but like he’d meant it the last time he’d said it, and the time before. Countless time stretching behind to kiss and love and say it, countless time stretching ahead. 

And as she got to her feet, tugged him up and in her wake, lips and limbs entangled in the desperate stumbling back to the bedroom, she knew she wanted nothing but to be lost in these countless times. Forever.

* * 

She wasn’t Lisa Delacroix any more. She was Eva Saida. And she was screaming. 

And running, which a small part of Eva’s brain thought was a stupid idea. Why scream when you run? It just tires you out, it just lets anyone you’re trying to escape from know where you are, it’s just childish and pointless - 

But the streets of Algiers didn’t stop twisting and turning before her, no matter how far she ran, how many corners she dashed down, and the monstrous shadows followed her. Never one specific thing, never one specific face, just _all_ of those people from the past, with their rough words and rough minds and rough hands - 

She was screaming because she was nine years old, and that’s what happened when she remembered being nine years old. 

Then the next alleyway to her left wasn’t just dark, it was pitch black, and she knew the uncertainty of oblivion was better than the certain reality. Arm lifted like a shield, she plunged into shadow. 

And fell flat on her face. Algiers had faded behind her, and she wasn’t nine years old any more - she was herself. Herself, gasping for breath, gasping for control, gasping to _forget_ , like she’d spent the last ten years forgetting that time _before_. Before she’d had power, before him - where was he, where was he, he _saved_ her, where was he? 

The hoarse sobbing told her she wasn’t alone, and with jittery nerves, Eva reached for her wand. That had come back. She had power again, strength. They couldn’t hurt her - _nobody_ could hurt her - because she would hurt them first. Her grip was firm on the wand as she whirled around, combat stance ready, spells on the tip of her tongue. 

But the sight before her sent all of them flying. Inky blackness everywhere - except for around the solid metal chair, in which sat the bound and sobbing girl. Her head was bowed, dark hair casting a curtain over her face, but Eva didn’t need to see her to recognise her. To remember where she’d last seen her. 

Badenheim. 

Faltering, Eva clambered to her feet and approached the chair. She didn’t know why - she should be running, her instincts screamed at her, _fleeing_. But instead she stumbled across the inky blackness, reached out a hand to brush the girl’s hair back, even though she knew what she’d see. 

Lisa Delacroix, the real Lisa Delacroix, the one she’d murdered in Badenheim, leered up at her, lips twisting for a vicious snarl. ‘You’ve got my _face_ ,’ she spat - then she wasn’t tied up any more, she was lunging up at her, and tackled Eva onto her back on the ground. ‘You _stole_ it, you stole _me_ -’ 

Clawed fingers at the corner of Eva’s jaw, ripping at flesh. The inky shadows around her shifting, not for more darkness but for more figures, more faces, and Eva could recognise them all. Julius Styles, the first man she’d killed. A guard from one of the government bases in Peru whose neck she’d broken, a trafficker of black market runes she’d killed for Prometheus so he couldn’t tell anyone what he’d purchased for the Hogwarts ritual, that Muggle street-thug from Algiers she’d hunted down years later and slit the throat of. 

They were all there, reaching down at her, clawing, lashing out, and even though she struggled, she couldn’t push them back as they descended. The dead. The murdered. Her victims. 

All she could do was scream.

* * 

They eventually made it back to the balcony, laid out on the lounger, tangled up in the sunlight so perfectly that she didn’t know where she ended and he began. It had been forever since she’d sat and let the world go by without a care in the world. These days she hated just sitting. It meant time to think, and time to think meant _him_ , and he meant grief, and pain. 

Except for now. Now he was here, now she was in his arms, and now lying there and letting the world go by was perfection. 

‘Talk to me,’ she breathed, her head nestled against his shoulder. 

‘Mn? Regarding?’ 

‘Anything. I just want to hear you talk.’ She wriggled against him to get comfortable. ‘What’ve you been reading?’ 

‘Oh. Principles and theorems on warding techniques against multiple forms of magic over a mobile location. Such as travelling ships, coaches, so forth. Rituals need to be fully integrated into the construction of the vehicle from the first point of development…’ 

And on. And on. And she closed her eyes and soaked it all up, every syllable, and her heart thudded in her chest louder with each moment. _I don_ _’t know anything about this. How can it be in my head if I don’t know anything about this?_

It felt like forever before he stopped, and she felt him shift his head to look down at her. ‘Not boring you?’ 

‘No. I like hearing you talk. I’ve missed it. I’ve missed you so, so much.’ Her fingers curled in his shirt. ‘Stay with me, this time?’ 

‘This time? Going nowhere.’ He kissed the top of her head. ‘Promise. Nowhere.’ 

But it was too much; the fear that this would slip through her fingertips rose in her chest again, and the grief at what lay beyond in the cold, stark walls of Ager Sanguinis. She shifted to face him, reached up to pull him to her in a needy, desperate kiss, and willed that shadow of her mind to go away; she was here, here _forever_ \- 

Then Rose kicked open the door and burst onto the balcony. ‘Selena? Selena! You’re not safe -’ And stopped as she saw them tangled up on the lounger, jaw dropping. ‘Oh, _shit_.’ 

‘Yes.’ Selena scowled. ‘Do you _mind_ , Weasley?’ 

A red-haired man stuck his head through the door. ‘Told you it was worse.’ 

Rose flapped at him. ‘Yes, _thank_ you, Fred, now is really _not_ the time.’ 

Selena flicked a finger between them. ‘Were you breeding while I was busy?’ 

Methuselah sat up, expression bashful. ‘Um. Weasley. Other Weasley. Er. Tea?’ 

_Oh God, everything_ _’s breaking and he’s offering them tea._   
  
Rose’s expression fell. ‘Jones. Oh, _Jones_ …’ 

‘Rose, you need to _go_.’ Selena crossed the distance to grab Rose’s shoulders, push her back towards the balcony - because if she was here, it was wrong, all wrong. ‘Now, please, _go_ -’ 

‘Selena.’ She grabbed her wrists and didn’t budge. ‘This isn’t real.’ 

‘ _No_ \- I’m here, he’s here, it’s _fine_ , I’m sorry about Scorpius, but this isn’t -’ Her voice was breaking, desperation and panic creeping in. ‘You have to go. _Go_!’ 

Rose’s grip was surprisingly strong, her expression creasing. ‘No. No, I won’t go, because we’re - this isn’t real, we’re trapped someplace between life and death, this isn’t _really_ happening, he’s not really here - you’re real, _I_ _’m_ real, and we have to _go_ -’ 

A choking breath caught in Selena’s throat, and she looked over her shoulder at Methuselah - or tried to, her gaze fixing on a point above his head. ‘You’re real. Tell her - tell me you’re real, tell me this is real -’ 

Methuselah was stood with that confused and indignant expression he’d worn whenever things went wrong and he couldn’t fix it. ‘Um.’ 

‘He’s a shadow, Selena,’ said Fred. ‘Just a lingering essence of the soul, dregs left behind and coalescing. I mean, it’s sort of him and sort of _not_ , but this isn’t real, this isn’t really happening, and he’s not coming back. He passed on.’ 

‘How the _hell_ would you know?’ 

‘Because he saved my family and so I made sure he was looked after when he got here.’ Fred’s lips thinned. ‘And he passed on.’ 

‘No.’ She yanked her hands free from Rose, backed off towards the balcony, stuck between the two Weasleys and Methuselah. She didn’t dare go to him, didn’t dare approach in case the moment tilted and he shattered, disappeared, and she had to lose him again. ‘No, no, I’m here, I’m safe, I’m with _him_ _…_ ’ 

‘You’re trapped, Selena. We’re both trapped. You have to get out, or we’re stuck here,’ said Rose in a low, urgent voice. ‘We belong in Ager Sanguinis, we belong in the real world, along with the others -’ 

‘Maybe _you_ do!’ Selena clutched a handful of her hair, breathing ragged. ‘Maybe you belong back there with your family and with Scorpius, but I _don_ _’t_. Don’t you see? I’m just - I’m stuck in this cycle, I can’t _live_ without him, I’m going through the motions…’ 

‘You are _not_ , because you are strong -’ 

‘I don’t _want_ to be strong!’ There was a pitcher of water on the table and she grabbed it, hurled it to the ground, felt the slightest relief of the tension in her gut as it shattered. But it didn’t last. ‘I don’t want to be _strong_ , I don’t want to _fight on_ , I just want to be _here_ , I just want _him_ , I just want to stay! You don’t need me! The “reasonably competent” seventeen year-old witch! You’ve got Matt with his damned _brain_ and _book_ , you who’s smart as a button, Scorpius who’s wily as hell, Albus who’s the best of us, even _crazy Lisa_. You don’t need me!’ 

‘Yes, I _do_!’ Rose crossed the distance, eyes blazing, and grabbed her by the arms. ‘I need you because you talk sense into me when Scorpius is being an idiot. I need you because we can have tea and speak nonsense for hours on end. I need you because you tell me when I’m being silly, and I need you because you make anything fun, and I need you because - you’re my _friend_ , Selena!’ 

‘That’s - that’s _liking_ me, that’s not _needing_ me.’ Tears were rolling down her face, and she pointed to Methuselah. ‘Here, I’m needed.’ 

Rose’s breath caught. ‘But it’s not real.’ 

‘Who _cares_?’ She looked at Fred. ‘You seem to know what’s going on. So what if he’s a shadow? What if I stay? Can I even pass on and be with him?’ 

Fred looked pained. ‘I don’t know what happens when you pass on. I don’t know if - I don’t know if everyone’s there or if it’s something more abstract or if it’s just _nothing_. I don’t know. As for staying here - I guess? I guess you can do that. You can do that as your body fades away and suffers and dies back in the real world, and then you wind up passing on anyway. Everything comes back here eventually.’ 

‘I’ve got… no good reason for you to come back,’ said Rose, voice taut. ‘I’ve got no promises to make you, I’ve got no shining light, I’ve got no guarantee it’ll get better. Maybe we’ll live on and you’ll meet some great guy who won’t diminish your love for Methuselah but make something new. Maybe you won’t, maybe you’ll just be a woman with cats and a teahouse. And maybe you’ll love being alone with your cats - and maybe you’ll hate it, maybe you won’t stop aching and maybe you won’t stop dying inside. And you hate _both_ options, don’t you? You hate the thought of getting better, and you hate the thought of not, we’ve discussed this.’ 

‘Great sales pitch, Weasley.’ 

Fred lifted a hand. ‘Can we call her the Not-Fun Weasley? I feel that would be more specific.’ 

‘This isn’t _real_ , Selena, and you know this. You _know_ this. And you’ll throw away everything, _everything_ , for some fleeting moments with him in a dream world. Your friends, your family, your future - whatever that future might be.’ Rose let go, expression twisted in anguish. ‘Come on. You know this isn’t real. You’ve not looked at him since I came in.’ 

She did at last, tore her gaze from Rose to Methuselah, who still stood with the awkward confusion of before. And now she couldn’t help herself, she had to pull away from Rose and throw herself across the balcony into his arms. ‘Tell me you’re real,’ she sobbed into his chest. ‘Tell me what we’ve got is real.’ 

‘He doesn’t know!’ said Fred sharply. ‘He’s a shadow, he’s just this - this _moment_ , taken from your mind, taken from this essence of him, like a mimicry.’ 

He felt real. His skin under her hands was real, the rise and fall of his chest was real, the thudding of his heart was real. His breath tickling her ear was real. The fingertips at her chin were real, tilting her face up to his, to see those peerless dark eyes. ‘Real is - arguably subjective. Alive? Most alive when close to you…’ 

‘Damn it -’ Her gut twisted, something surging in her chest, in her throat - then her hands weren’t clutching at him, they were clenching into fists, thudding against his chest. ‘You left me - you _left me_!’ He grabbed her wrists, startled, but still she thrashed against him. ‘We had _everything_ ahead of us and you _gave it up_ , you walked away, you _let yourself die_ , because… because…’ 

_Because you had to._   
  
She yanked herself out of his grip, pulling back as if stung, and wrapped her arms around herself. ‘I hate you,’ she spat, not just at him, but all of them. ‘I hate you, I hate this, I don’t want -’ _I don_ _’t want to be here. I don’t want to be_ ** _anywhere_** _._ Even this, this imaginary spot that had always existed somewhere in her mind, too painful to contemplate and yet blissful when she lost herself in it, had turned to dust. 

Rose bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry, Selena. I’m sorry -’ 

‘Stop being sorry! Everyone’s always sorry! It doesn’t change anything!’ She looked back at Methuselah, who was still startled, bewildered, and when she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper. ‘Tell me you love me.’ 

He blinked that blink he gave when someone said something confusingly obvious. ‘Of course I love you.’ 

‘Tell me you need me.’ 

‘I need you.’ He drew a slow, raking breath. ‘To be more than me, I need you. To be more than… books, and smarts, and thoughts. To feel. To be real. To be a man.’ 

‘No.’ She had to swallow down a sob. ‘You were always brilliant and kind without me.’ 

‘It helped.’ 

‘Yeah.’ She couldn’t stop the tears. ‘It helped. Just like you helped me be more.’ 

He shook his head. ‘You were always more.’ 

Then she was flying back across the distance, clutching at his shirt, at his shoulders, kissing him with every inch of desperation and need and loss that had marred her for months, years, _lifetimes_. And he wrapped his arms around her and she could pretend, just pretend that this moment was endless, that the world could rush away and leave her here with him, again in this fantasy, this timeless second… 

But it ended. Of course. Like everything, it ended, and then she was gasping against his lips, trying to not sob. ‘You made me more,’ she whimpered. ‘But - but I can’t undo that. I can’t go back. You made me more, and I’m still - even without you, I’m still what you made me…’ 

He looked like he was going to protest and she couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand to argue, couldn’t stand to listen to him tell her how perfect she’d been even before him, without him, because it wasn’t true. If she’d shone to him, it was because he made her shine. But she couldn’t bring herself to kiss him again, not yet, so her fingertips found his lips. ‘I love you,’ she breathed. ‘I love you, I love you, I _love_ you, I will never forget you, you will _always_ be a part of me, you will always be the first thing I think of in the morning and the last thing I think of at night, and when I close my eyes for the last time, it will be you I see…’ 

And now she kissed him again, because she had to. Because she had to kiss him one last time, and she’d had half a grip on herself when the last kiss was something to come, but now the last kiss was _here_ , the last touch of his hands, the last, fleeting brush of contact. Now his lips were on hers, now she was in his embrace, now she was helpless in his arms and trying to will this to last forever. So she had to pull herself back before she collapsed into the fantasy once again, break the kiss, drag herself from his arms. Everything was cold despite the dazzling sunlight, the places he’d held her, kissed her, like ice once she was away from him. ‘I love you,’ she whispered for the last time. ‘Goodbye.’ 

She gave herself a heartbeat, just a heartbeat more to look at him, to let herself remember him like this, for _this_ to be the last time she’d see him; not his corpse on a slab in a dungeon but him, here, warm, breathing, loving her, saying goodbye. 

Then she turned away, and the doorway inside wasn’t showing the hotel room but that inky blackness that had claimed them in the first place. Rose’s hand was in hers without thinking, and she couldn’t wait, couldn’t talk, couldn’t think, or she’d lose her nerve. She just had to step forward, throw herself into the darkness, and as light and shadow whirled around her, spun around her, she couldn’t, couldn’t look back. 


	30. The Sudden Stop

The street was long and gloomy, wind whipping the sand up from the road into his face. Squat, pale buildings flanked him, shadowy and indistinct, and Albus suspected that even if he’d been here before, he wouldn’t recognise the place. The world warped and spun before him, and he was forced to put out a hand to the nearest lamppost to stay on his feet. This looked like the road of a busy town, a bustling city, but at that moment it was stark, abandoned. 

And worst of all, when he looked up, he couldn’t see the stars. 

Albus’ hand came to the wand tucked into his belt, and he slipped it into his sleeve before he looked up and down the road. ‘Hello?’ 

He didn’t know if he preferred that his shout went unanswered. And then he heard the scream in response, and knew he’d have rather stayed being alone. If nothing else, he knew that scream. 

_Lisa_. 

When had he learnt how to recognise his companions’ screams? But that was a thought for another time, and he broke into a sprint. It took effort to not call back, to shout a reassurance that she’d been heard, that he was on his way. Despite how they’d first met, he didn’t want to think for too long about what would have her incapacitated and in need of help. 

He saw her when he rounded the corner and skidded to a halt, heart lunging into his throat. She was on her back in the middle of this shrouded, shifting cityscape, scuttling on her hands, crab-like, away. Claws had marked the corner of her face, by her ears and by her temples and by her jaw, and blood was oozing from where the flesh had been pierced deep enough. 

It wasn’t her, though, who made him come to a dead halt. It was the figures she was retreating from. Human, or humanoid, they were hunched over shapes shambling and staggering forwards, their clothes or robes hanging off them like shrouds. The jerky, shuffling movements would have been enough to disquiet Albus, but it was their faces that had him stop in horror. Or, specifically, their _lack_ of faces - blank skin and bloodied flesh and sunken, sightless black rifts for eyes, dark maws for mouths. 

It took every ounce of strength he had to not just turn and run. 

When he didn’t, he only had one option: to advance. His wand whipped at them, magic flashing at the tip for a gust of wind and force that rocked into the dozen or so shambling shapes, sending them flying and staggering back. Some fell onto their backs and, instead of righting themselves, began to crawl onward. 

‘Get back, and stay back!’ he called out, voice stronger than he felt, moving to stand beside Lisa. His free hand came out to her, but she didn’t take it, sinking into a huddled, panicked shape at his feet. 

One of the foremost figures, whose brown clothes hung off it in rags, stumbled to a halt. When it drew breath, it was like it sucked both air and sound from the street, and when it spoke its voice was like burning parchment. ‘You ssstand for thisss one?’ 

Lisa’s hand finally fumbled up at his, grasping his fingers in an iron hold. ‘Don’t,’ she whispered. 

Albus’ chin tilted half an inch up. ‘I do.’ 

The response for a moment was merely a hiss, though the shambling masses stayed back. It was a different one which spoke up next, one of the crumpled, crawling shapes on the dusty ground. ‘Ssshouldn’t.’ 

‘I’ll be the judge of that. Whatever you are, go, and _stay_ gone.’ 

‘We are thossse taken by… her,’ hissed the first one. ‘We never forget. Ever.’ 

‘Ever,’ rattled the one on the ground. ‘Never, ever.’ 

‘Ever,’ agreed the first. 

Lisa gave a low moan and curled up into a tighter shape beneath him. ‘Albus.’ Her voice was small, terrified. ‘Go. Go, go, you wouldn’t stay if you knew…’ 

‘I’m not leaving you.’ That much he knew for sure, and he lifted his gaze to the faceless masses. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t, but that’s my judgement. It’s also my judgement you won’t hurt her. _Go_.’ 

That first faceless shape lifted a hand, a long, bony finger pointed at her. ‘Never over. Never, ever. We wait… we remember… we never forget…’ 

‘Never, ever,’ echoed the masses. 

‘And when you’re alone… we return.’ But they were shuffling back now, some on both feet, some crawling away on all four limbs with the same meticulous coordination of spiders, jittering and jerking as they shambled back. 

Albus did not lower his wand or turn his eyes away until the darkness consumed them and long moments had passed where the only noise to break the silence was a whistling wind and the rattling, gulping breath of Lisa at his feet. Then he shoved his wand to his belt and sank to his knees, hands reaching for her shoulders. 

‘No!’ She jerked at his touch and threw herself back, scrambling across the dusty road with just as much desperation as the swarm he’d faced against. ‘No, no…’ 

‘I won’t hurt you,’ he said, voice low, firm. ‘I won’t, I promise.’ 

‘I know,’ she whimpered. ‘I’m not the one who gets hurt, I’m the one who hurts…’ 

‘You’re hurt right now. You’re bleeding.’ 

She sank onto the ground, dusty hand lifting up to the blood at her jaw, and she peered at her fingertips like she didn’t understand it. Then her gaze snapped up to him. ‘Why’re you here?’ Her voice wavered. 

‘I heard you screaming. Where _are_ we?’ 

‘I don’t -’ Her legs drew in under her. ‘Not Syria.’ 

‘You know this place.’ 

‘It’s not possible.’ 

‘But you know it.’ 

She gave a slow, mute nod, and he stayed silent for a long moment, watching her until she drew a shaking breath. ‘Algiers. The worst part. I grew up here. I don’t know why we’re here.’ 

‘Well, we’re not _really_ here, I hope. I remember walking down the corridor, then I remember darkness.’ He wasn’t sure if she should try approaching her again, so he stayed. ‘So this is some sort of magical trap. I’ve not seen anything… for me, I mean. But we’ve got to get out of here.’ 

Lisa stayed silent for moments more. ‘You should get out of here,’ she agreed. ‘I shouldn’t. You shouldn’t help me. You don’t know what you’re doing, helping me.’ 

Albus’ lips thinned. ‘I’ve got a pretty good idea what I’m doing. I’m not leaving you here.’ 

‘You should.’ 

‘Why?’ His voice grew taut. ‘Because you killed those people?’ 

Her eyes snapped to him, and while there was shock there in that dark gaze, the fear was almost palpable. ‘How did you -’ 

‘Because it’s obvious.’ 

‘You don’t know me -’ 

‘I don’t, I know. But I’ve guessed things and some things became clearer there. This place is filled with enough dark magic to manifest Dementors. We’re trapped in _something_ , seeing some sort of magic vision or we’ve been transported to some magic place. Whatever _they_ were, it was nothing good. Darkness, and _death_. I don’t know the full story, I barely know _you_ , but I know I’m not leaving you here.’ 

‘You should.’ 

Then he was over her, and ignored her flinch when he took her wrist to tug her to her feet. ‘Then explain why.’ 

She tried to yank her hand back, but his grip remained firm. ‘Let go of me.’ 

‘Either you’re coming with me out of this place, or you’re _explaining_ why I’m leaving you here, because it sure as _hell_ isn’t going to be something in between.’ 

‘Why do you care?’ 

‘Because you’re _here_! Because you’re with me! Because I’ve seen no reason to give up on you!’ Although all honest, the words sounded hollow spilling from his lips. ‘Because I see you’ve been hurt and even if you hurt _others_ , I want to - I want to _know_ , damn it, I want to understand, and if we’re going to face Thane and the Council together, we’re _in this_ together. We _face this_ together.’ 

Her eyes were scanning his face, wide and shocked and disbelieving. ‘If you knew the truth, you’d hate me and kill me.’ 

‘I very much doubt either.’ 

‘Why?’ 

‘Because I’ve _seen_ you! Spoken to you! Listened to you, and I don’t believe there’s this darkness that’s so unforgivable -’ 

‘The one who spoke.’ Her voice was quieter when she cut him off, but low and firm. ‘The first one. He wasn’t the first man I killed, but he was the first man I _swore_ I’d kill. I grew up in these streets _terrified_ of him and his followers, doing my best to stay out of his way, out of his _hands_ , but I didn’t always succeed. I saw him beat and terrorise friends, family. I saw him rule over helpless people with cruelty and an iron fist, and I told myself that some day I would _not_ be helpless and I would find him and _kill him_ and I _did_!’ 

Her voice rolled across the shadowy streets, the echo rumbling into every corner like a low threat of thunder. 

‘You were a Muggle-born, weren’t you,’ said Albus. ‘And then you found magic, and you came back, and you took revenge. I might not like that, but I can’t _judge_ that. I’ve never been there.’ 

Again her eyes roved his face, but only for a heartbeat before she yanked her hand free, finally, throwing both in the air. ‘There were others!’ she shouted. ‘Others who deserved it less! Others who didn’t deserve it at all!’ 

‘So you fell in with criminals, first.’ The blanks had been clearer than he’d realised. ‘That’s how you learned your magic, that’s why you never went to Beauxbatons, that’s why you’re so _entrenched_ in combat magic, protective magic.’ 

‘I didn’t…’ Now she faltered and turned away, wand falling from her hand, fingers burying in her hair. ‘They were - they found me, they saved me, they kept me safe, they made me - you’ve never _had_ to be _strong_!’ 

‘No,’ he agreed. ‘No, I haven’t. Not like that. And when I did, even just a little, I made some bad choices, too.’ 

‘You’re supposed to hate me.’ Her voice had moved to a low snarl by now, frustrated and desperate and uncomprehending. ‘Why aren’t you _hating_ me yet?’ 

He took a cautious step forward. ‘Because I don’t know you, I don’t know what you lived through, I don’t know what you faced. I don’t understand it. I want to, though.’ 

‘No, you don’t. I killed people. People who deserved it.’ Her voice shook. ‘People who didn’t. People who were there. People who were just in the way.’ 

‘Are you sorry?’ 

That stopped her short, and her dark eyes latched onto him, suspicious. ‘What the _fuck_ does that change?’ 

‘Not much. It doesn’t fix everything. But it matters, I think.’ He straightened slowly. ‘Are you sorry?’ 

‘I don’t -’ Now her voice was breaking. ‘I don’t know - I did it, what does _sorry_ matter? Sorry doesn’t change anything, me being _sorry_ doesn’t undo anything, I _killed_ people -’ 

‘That means you deserve something, sure. I don’t think that means you deserve _this_.’ He waved a hand around the long, shadowy street. ‘It doesn’t mean you deserve what Downing did to you.’ 

‘It _does_!’ Now she turned on him, and the blow wasn’t gentle when she drove her fist into his shoulder. He staggered with a grunt, then she was swinging again and he grabbed that wrist. ‘He did it and I couldn’t _stop_ him, and it should have been - it should have been _more_ …’ 

But he wasn’t letting her go, grabbing both her wrists, and then she wasn’t struggling any more, she was collapsing against him, her rasping voice turning to sobs. ‘…if you understood, you’d hate me.’ 

‘No,’ he whispered, his hands tight on hers, the restraint becoming an embrace, holding her back and holding her close all at once. ‘No, I don’t think I would. I don’t think I could.’ 

‘You should,’ she sobbed, restrained wrists grabbing fistfuls of his jacket as she shook in his arms. ‘I’d deserve it.’ 

And then the darkness overcame them.

* * 

It was two men, wizards in light-coloured robes stood in the doorway to the Veil chamber. They brandished their wands, the tip of one still pulsing with the fading magic of the Stun that had missed Scorpius by inches, and even as he and Matt went for their own wands, the second wizard was casting. 

Matt reeled back, but the Stun clipped his shoulder and he staggered. He would have fallen if Scorpius hadn’t dived for him, grabbed him, and then the two were stumbling across the chamber for the far door, the one leading to a stairway further up and into the cliff. 

‘Who -’ 

But Matt’s voice was a slurred gurgle, and Scorpius just carried on dragging him for the door. His own wand flashed out to bring up a Shield against which the wizards’ next magical onslaught crashed - then they were through the doorway, protected by gloom and solid stone, and he tapped his wand against Matt’s shoulder. ‘ _Ennervate_.’ 

‘Son of a bitch.’ Matt shook his head, gasping for breath. ‘What’s going on?’ 

‘No idea! Run!’ 

They stumbled up the stairs, heard the voices from behind them - English speaking, angry - and soon enough the thudding of footsteps. They were being followed. 

‘Council of Thorns? Raskoph?’ Matt wondered. 

‘See previous statement!’ 

‘Do we have a plan?’ 

‘Be not out in the open so we can rally!’ 

‘What if they go after the others?’ 

_Then we hope they can fend for themselves_. Scorpius had fought enough of the Council of Thorns by now to know he didn’t want to be taken by surprise, or even be in a straight fight. If they ran they could gather themselves, make a plan, use the scenery to their advantage. 

Then they rounded the next turn of the stairs to reach a long corridor, and Scorpius skidded to a halt. ‘ _Shit_.’ 

The chamber led them from the stairs to an open door beyond which they could see the golden sky and setting sun, a wide open ledge he guessed was where the opening above the Veil chamber below sat. That was fine. Open space and places to go. 

It was the two brown, clay statues who stood on either side of the far door that made him hesitate. ‘Those are golems, right? Shit.’ 

Matt drew a sharp breath. ‘Not necessarily. I mean, they’re golems, but not necessarily “shit”. Give me a moment.’ He lifted his wand. 

Scorpius looked behind him. The thudding footsteps were getting louder. ‘We don’t have a moment.’ 

Matt ignored him, gaze flickering over the paving stones before them, then he extended his wand again and ‘painted’ a hovering green marker over one in between the two golems. ‘Don’t tread on that one. It’ll activate them.’ Then he started forward. 

‘And if they tread on it?’ 

‘Then the golems will, I hope, try to kill them.’ 

It took a running jump to bound over the stone that was the pressure point for the golems’ activation, then they were out on the rooftop of the fort. The view of the Syrian Desert stretched to the north, rolling dunes slowly engulfed by shadow as night loomed on. Golden light still bathed the stones of Ager Sanguinis, this wide and open space basking in a glow which would have been pretty if people hadn’t been trying to kill them. 

‘Won’t those things only go off if someone’s not a pureblood?’ Scorpius asked Matt as they edged out of sight of the doorway. 

‘I’m pretty sure that was just the Thule Society’s protections around Badenheim, using the golems for that purpose. It doesn’t make sense for the Templars to care about it. Especially not since there was so much cooperation between the Laymen - the old term for Muggles - and the wizard knights -’ 

‘You could have just left it at the first part!’ Scorpius hissed. ‘This is not the time for a history lesson!’ 

‘Okay!’ Matt scowled, voice dropping as he heard the footsteps. ‘How’d they even find us here?’ 

‘I don’t know. That _is_ worrying. We’re supposed to be dead.’ 

‘I get the impression they want to correct this error. Though they might not be Council.’ The two exchanged looks, and Matt gave a one-shouldered shrug and a grimace. He didn’t believe his guess either. 

They fell silent, Scorpius almost holding his breath as the thudding footsteps grew closer - then quieter. These wizards were professionals. From the corridor they wouldn’t be able to see much of the roof, and neither of their targets were in sight. It made sense to make the approach cautiously, rather than walking right into their enemy’s line of fire. 

This was good. It meant they’d be more worried about what waited for them on the other side of the door than what was already next to them. 

They knew it had worked when there was the grinding of stone on stone, and the shouts of surprise and astonishment from the two wizards. They knew it was _really_ working when one of them was thrown not just through the doorway onto the rooftop, but clipped the stone with a sickening _crunch_ and a force enough to send chipped masonry everywhere everywhere. 

Then spells were flying. 

The second Council wizard pelted through the door, dragging the first away from the twin golems who tromped out, their footsteps thudding hard onto the paving stones. Scorpius flashed a Stun at the wizards, but a Shield came up impossibly fast, and the spell splashed across the barrier. 

Then one of the golems turned away from the two wizards of the Council of Thorns and rounded on him and Matt, and Scorpius swore under his breath. ‘Oh, good work, Doyle. Great idea.’ 

Matt’s lips twisted. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said in a low voice. ‘And stay behind me. I’ve got this.’ Then he drew his sword. 

A fight in which they were outmatched had turned into a rolling three-way ruck. 

_Matt can fight the golem. Your spells won_ _’t affect it. Worry about the Council._ Scorpius backpedaled as their golem bore down on them, and Matt moved forwards, sword flashing in the dying light. Behind the golem, the Council wizard who’d been hurled through the wall was picking himself up as his companion threw a blast at the second monstrosity bearing down on them. Unsurprisingly, the magic splashed against the clay of the golem and dissipated. 

But Scorpius knew it wouldn’t take them long to realise their wands would do nothing. He lashed out, aiming for the wizard still picking himself up and his Stun struck true, making the man stagger and collapse. 

_That was the most unchivalrous thing you_ _’ve done_ , he reflected, _putting down the enemy who couldn_ _’t defend himself_. He shrugged. _It worked_. 

Matt was ducking under the heavy swing of a golem’s arm, his enchanted sword lashing against the body of their opponent. There was a ferocious _crunch_ and a crack thudded its way through the rock of the magical construct, crisscrossing in a web of rifts across its torso. But it kept coming. 

The standing Council wizard backed off, his golem advancing. He’d given up on using magic against the construct, just avoiding the construct, and so his wand was free to deflect Scorpius’ spells. Magic flashed off barriers and was knocked to one side, and Scorpius gritted his teeth, so intently focused on trying to pierce the protections that he didn’t notice what his enemy had planned until it was almost too late. 

Fortunately, it wasn’t Scorpius who suffered for it. 

The Council wizard bobbed and weaved as he retreated across the fort’s rooftop, the golem swinging giant stone fists at him - and every time, the man darted out of the way. Every spell Scorpius flung was blocked by a Shield, until, finally, the Council wizard’s wand smashed down. Not at the golem’s feet, but at the masonry underfoot. 

When the wizard lunged to the side and the masonry crumbled, Scorpius realised what was going on. He’d been heading for the round opening in the middle of the rooftop that led to the Veil chamber below, and his blast at the floor had been well-placed. The golem took another step forward, the paving stone underneath crumbled - 

\- and as the Council wizard darted to one side, the golem tottered, then tumbled through the opening and disappeared from sight. Long seconds - long, fatal seconds - passed before they heard the crunching, thundering sound of shattering rock. 

Scorpius blinked, impressed, surprised - and paid for that dearly as the Council wizard rounded on him with another flash of the wand. He snapped a Shield up, but saw the magic splash against the barrier before thudding _through_ it. 

He’d been Stunned before. He’d done it to himself, once. His Shield had absorbed some of the blast but it was still enough to make his limbs lock up, enough to knock him off his feet and he hit the floor hard, stiff and unable to catch himself, the impact alone enough to drive the air from his lungs. 

The world spun above. The spells and shouting sounded a long way off. He thought he caught Matt yelling, ‘ _Expelliarmus_!’ at the Council wizard now he was suddenly facing two enemies at once, thought - prayed - he heard an oath from the Council wizard as the disarm struck home. 

But the golem was still coming for Matt, and all Scorpius could see from flat on his back was the golden glow of the rays of the setting sun streaking across the sky, and the shadows of movements. 

_Wand still in hand. Find inner magic_. It was possible, he knew, to cast an Ennervate on himself through silent casting. It wouldn’t have been remotely feasible if he’d taken a full Stun, but he hadn’t - and Matt was now on his own, even if he had a sword to handle a golem and the Council wizard was unarmed. 

Scorpius gritted his teeth, scowled at the sky, fought to get his breath back, and clenched his fist around his wand. _Concentrate._ He felt his wand twitch. 

Nothing happened. 

The sound of Matt’s sword crashing through the golem’s torso was like thunder, and hope surged in Scorpius’ heart - until he heard the grunt of pain from Matt, the sound of thudding flesh on flesh. The Council wizard was unarmed, but he’d closed the distance, and nobody had expected this battle of wands to turn physical. 

Matt wasn’t a big guy. He wasn’t trained for this. And all Scorpius could see out of the corner of his eye was frantic movement, the two wrestling another across the rooftop. Matt’s wand was lost in the scuffle, the Council wizard was a much bigger guy, and for every blow Matt managed to land, he took two. 

_You_ _’re both going to die if you don’t do something._ Scorpius gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, tried to think of Rose, and cast. 

It wasn’t, in the end, Rose who flashed through his mind. It was Methuselah Jones - Methuselah’s crumpled and broken corpse at ground zero of the Phlegethon ritual. He’d been bound and helpless on the ground and unable to do _anything_ to stop Methuselah, to save Methuselah. This wasn’t going to be a heroic sacrifice if anything happened to Matt. It was going to be murder. But again Scorpius found himself flat on his back, unable to intervene, unable to save him, unable to - 

_Ennervate_. 

His wand twitched in his hand and Scorpius bolted upright. The world spun before him, his body rebelling against the sudden surge of magic, and when he got to his feet it was like he’d been punched in the face while drunk. The ground see-sawed before him, and he rounded on Matt and the Council wizard with a lurching gait. 

The fight was now at the broken masonry where the Council wizard had dropped the golem. Matt was on his back, pinned down by the bigger man, who was landing blow after blow into his face, his gut. Both wands were far out of reach, Matt’s sword lay abandoned on the floor, and with all of their sophistication and magic, the fight had been reduced to nothing more than a physical contest. 

Which the Council of Thorns wizard was winning. 

Scorpius stumbled forward, lifting his wand. ‘ _Stupefy_ ,’ he muttered, aiming at where he thought the Council wizard was. His blast went about four metres over the man’s head, and it became apparent he was going to be more of a hindrance than a help if he tried to throw magic around. 

He stopped thinking, and acted. Staggered forwards, ignored by the Council wizard who had either not noticed him or judged him not a threat as he continued to pummel Matt. His nose was broken, blood streaming down across his face, and though he stirred he was in no condition to fight back. It seemed the wizard was too entrenched in the fight to care that he’d won. 

So he had no defence when Scorpius kicked him in the ribs, hard. It was a lazy, swinging blow but he hadn’t seen it coming and so he was knocked sideways, off Matt, landing on the masonry next to the edge before the long, long drop down to the Veil chamber. 

Whatever part of Scorpius’ mind was working knew that if he got into a punching match, he would lose just as surely as Matt, and Matt was in no state to help him. Casting spells with accuracy was difficult, even if feeling was returning to the limbs that still ached with the memory of a Stun. And the wizard was getting to his feet, shock turning to anger, hands raising. 

Scorpius stepped forward and planted his fist in the other man’s temple, the blow solid and sending a shock juddering up his arm. His knuckles flared with pain - he’d never been taught how to land a proper punch - and some small, sober, alert part of his brain wondered if he’d hurt himself more. 

Then the blow made the Council wizard stagger onto thin air, and the small, sober, alert part of Scorpius’ brain took over entirely. Just in time to see his enemy stumble, flail - then plummet out of sight. 

The seconds afterwards felt like lifetimes. Lifetimes to hear the gurgling scream of shock and terror, lifetimes to see Matt still sprawled on his back, barely conscious, gasping for breath, lifetimes for sense and strength to return to his limbs. 

And then one lifetime over at the sickening crunch from below of flesh on stone.

* * 

They found Scorpius and Matt at the top of the Fort once reality had come crashing in. Loudly, painfully. The first sound from the belly of the fort upon their return to their senses was what Selena now guessed was the golem hitting the chamber floor. The second sound had been something considerably less pleasant, when they’d seen it, and they had hurried up the stairs to investigate. 

A broken golem. A Stunned but alive wizard disarmed and contained. Matt, face a mask of blood after a brutal beating, and Scorpius sat next to him in slumped, helpless shock. 

‘The golem threw him over the edge,’ Matt rasped, voice thick through a broken nose. ‘Then we just about managed to take it down.’ 

Selena looked at the state of them, at the remains of the golem a good distance from the edge, and didn’t say anything, because that was when Albus and Lisa, both looking about as drained as she felt, staggered onto the rooftop. And then it wasn’t time to stop and over-think the situation, it was time to get down to business. 

‘Get him bound,’ said Albus, gesturing to the surviving Council wizard. ‘And, Rose? I think it’ll be time to go through his mind. I want to know why he was sent here. I want to know if they know we’re alive.’ 

‘We should look around the place more,’ groaned Matt, who tried to sit up until Selena was by his side, planting a hand on his shoulder and gently pushing him back down. ‘There have to be - records, there’s got to be something. Something of de Sablé, something of the Chalice. There has to be.’ 

‘” _We_ ” won’t be doing anything,’ she said to him in a low, firm voice. ‘Al, Scorp, Lisa - I think that should be your jobs. Finish the search. Rose has got this guy to deal with. I’ll see to Matt.’ 

‘I can -’ 

‘You can’t stand. Albus can handle it.’ Despite the thudding in her bones, the physical exhaustion which came from being put through the emotional wringer, she was not going to brook any opposition. Her choices were to be as unforgiving as iron, or snap and become nothing. ‘Can’t you, Albus?’ 

Albus looked at her, at Matt, at Rose - then at Lisa and Scorpius. ‘Yeah,’ he said at last. ‘I can handle it.’ 

The other two left with him, Rose gave them one last look before she knelt next to the trussed-up Council wizard, and Selena turned her gaze back on Matt. 

‘I want to see what’s out there,’ he groaned. 

‘You can barely _see_.’ Her hand on his shoulder became gentler as she lifted her wand to the side of his face. ‘Don’t struggle. It won’t make it easier.’ 

‘I’m all right.’ 

‘You’re really not. You can’t even _say_ “all right” without sounding like you’ve got the world’s worst cold.’ It was the broken nose she tended to first, and sighed internally as she wondered when she’d picked up these healing charms. Rose would be the best one to give him a proper look-over later, but Rose was the only one who could examine the Council wizard. Besides, she wanted to stay busy, not wander around the ruins with the aimless hope of finding something. 

Matt groaned as the spell righted the broken nose, relief and pain mingling. ‘Bloody hell…’ 

‘That would describe you pretty well.’ There was a shake in her voice she couldn’t place. ‘We thought it was one of you two down there at first.’ 

He winced. ‘It bet that’s a worse sight.’ 

‘It’s horrid.’ She was trying to not think about it, a broken corpse fallen from too high. ‘You always get yourself in trouble.’ 

‘I don’t -’ 

‘You get yourself in trouble so often we’ve made _plans_ which revolved around you getting in trouble. Rabbit’s Foot. Getting drunk in Paris. Badenheim with the troll.’ 

‘I killed a golem with a sword,’ he groaned. ‘Two.’ 

If the golem up top had pitched that wizard off the edge, Selena mused, there was no way Matt, in his state, had then gone on to stab it up. And there was no way the golem had done this to him. He wouldn’t have a broken nose if he’d been beaten by a golem, he’d have had a broken _everything_. 

‘It was very manly, I’m sure,’ she said instead. 

Matt’s eyelids fluttered, another relieved groan escaping him as she cleaned up the mud, began to send soothing charms through him to take the edge of pain off his broken bones, bruises, cracked ribs. ‘…you’re good at this.’ 

‘I’m surely the _epitome_ of being soothing.’ 

‘Something’s wrong.’ 

_How can you see this when you_ _’ve got a cracked rib?_ ‘I think you should worry about yourself.’ 

‘I’m worrying about _you_. We’re friends, right? It’s what we do?’ 

‘Right now, friends are patching you up after a brutal beating.’ Again her voice shook, and she wasn’t sure why. It had been a long, long day, and putting someone back together was not how she’d envisioned ending it. Unless that person was herself. But he would press on if she didn’t change the topic, and she looked him in the eye, cleaned up and a less horrendous, swollen sight by now. ‘There’s no way that golem pitched the wizard off that edge.’ 

Matt hesitated - then Rose’s voice came across the rooftop. ‘Guys? This is - interesting, for lack of a better word.’ 

She had been too far away to hear them, and Selena didn’t stop Matt this time as he sat up. ‘You better take it easy,’ Selena muttered. He was without shame as she aided him to his feet, lanky frame leaning on her, and she helped him limp across to where Rose was knelt before the Council wizard. ‘What do you have?’ 

‘They weren’t here for us.’ Rose’s gaze roved over Matt with obvious concern as they all sat down next to the Stunned wizard. ‘They were surprised to see you here. This guy didn’t even recognise you and Scorpius for sure until he was up on the roof. They kicked off on you because this place was supposed to be abandoned.’ 

‘I didn’t know “ _Stupefy_ ” meant “hi”. So they definitely are - were - Council.’ Matt groaned as he flopped down. 

Rose nodded. ‘Council, sent here by Raskoph. He wanted them to scout out this place, report everything they found. They didn’t expect the Dementors or the Veil, but it doesn’t seem like this guy was surprised by either of them. Raskoph’s had several Council members conducting recon in different areas, usually creepy places. You know how we were concerned that this place’s history sounds an awful lot like what made the ritual site in Hogwarts so perfect for Phlegethon?’ 

That last was to Selena’s, whose lips thinned. ‘Raskoph is after more places saturated in death magic?’ 

‘That’s unconfirmed, but it’s what this guy’s theorising,’ said Rose. ‘He seemed to believe we were dead, so it looks like Raskoph bought it and this was bad luck. I mean, maybe Raskoph knew we were alive, but why lie to his own people? It seems more likely they really _are_ looking for more ritual sites.’ 

Selena suppressed a shudder. ‘More Eridanos and Phlegethon and maybe something _else_. Great. Perhaps they’re considering a Plan B in case they can’t find the Chalice. Or they’ve always had multiple plans on the go.’ 

‘This isn’t the only expedition Raskoph’s sent off. This guy also knows about a small group, including Raskoph himself, who are headed for Tomar, Portugal. Does that mean anything to you?’ This last was addressed to Matt. 

‘It’s an old magical Templar holding. After the dissolution of the Order it fell into the hands of the Knights of the Order of Christ; they avoided the worst of the persecutions… I haven’t read much more about Portugal, it didn’t seem relevant. I don’t know why it might be important.’ 

‘If Raskoph’s there,’ sighed Selena, ‘it probably is.’ 

‘And if Raskoph’s there,’ said Rose, ‘it can’t be anything good.’ 


	31. Dead of Night

Night had fallen before they’d found anything, and nobody wanted to work in Ager Sanguinis in the dark. Not with the Veil so close, not with the threat of Dementors arising again. So they’d taken their unconscious prisoner with them and apparated as far as they could see on the sandy horizon. The tent had been pitched, the Council wizard had been slung in a storage room, and though they still needed answers, they could work in the morning. 

Whatever form that work would take. But, for now, they would rest. 

Matt slept for an hour but then couldn’t any more, feeling the aching in his jaw, his nose. Selena had done what charms she could, but without exhausting him - as he had refused to let her drain herself - some pains could only be soothed by time. So the throbbing bruises, fading though they were, no longer as serious as they had been, were enough to rouse him. He sat up on the bed, wincing as his ribs objected to the movement, and looked across the room. 

Scorpius was on the opposite bunk, staring at the mattress above him. He didn’t shift as Matt moved, and there was an awkward silence. 

‘Malfoy?’ Nothing. Matt swung his legs over the edge of the bunk. ‘Scorpius?’ 

At length, a grunt. 

‘You okay?’ 

Another silence. Then, ‘Why’d you lie?’ 

Matt winced. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘Would you prefer I didn’t?’ 

A pause. ‘…no.’ 

‘I thought you could tell… when you want to tell. We’ve all got a lot on our plates.’ 

‘How do I tell her?’ 

Of course it came down to Rose. Matt sighed and gingerly rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘I’m going to get some water. You coming?’ 

‘No.’ 

‘Right.’ Matt stood, hissing at the ache this brought. He gave the other man a look, but Scorpius’ gaze was still locked on the mattress above, and so he headed to the tent’s main room. Albus and Rose sat around the round wooden table, cups of tea clutched in their hands. 

When in doubt, have a cup of tea. 

‘…I can’t do it discreetly, Al,’ said Rose, voice tense. ‘You know I can’t.’ 

‘Can you find a way? When she’s asleep -’ Albus stopped as Matt came in, head jerking in his direction. 

‘Sorry if I’m interrupting. Couldn’t sleep any more,’ Matt said. 

‘No, it’s fine.’ Albus’ brow was furrowed, and he got to his feet. ‘Do you need something, mate?’ 

‘Just some water, please.’ With relief he sank onto the stool. ‘I can go, if this was important.’ 

‘It is important,’ Albus said, moving to the sink. ‘But you don’t have to go. We were talking about Lisa.’ 

Matt looked between them. ‘You’re back on Legilimency, aren’t you. You don’t trust her?’ 

Albus’s shoulders hunched up, even though he had his back to them. ‘I don’t know. We never got the chance before Kythos, and then - maybe you should try that surface read, Rose.’ 

Rose looked like she might object - then she exhaled. ‘If I get the chance,’ she agreed. ‘Not tonight. I’m too tired. So might I recommend, if you’re worried about her, if you’re worried about what’s going on, that you _talk_ to her? She’s seemed about as rattled as I’ve ever seen her, and all right, I’ve only known her a week, but she doesn’t seem to rattle easily.’ 

Another wince from Albus as he put the glass of water down before Matt. ‘Things happened in that castle.’ 

‘I know,’ said Rose, voice gentle. ‘I don’t think you’re wrong to worry. But she listens to you. _Talk_.’ 

He sighed. ‘Always good advice. Why does nobody ever think of it?’ His gaze turned to the tent flaps leading to the cold desert night. ‘Fine. All right.’ Without any further ado he headed off, ducking through the doorway and out into the darkness. 

Matt gave a slow exhale. ‘So this fort was weird.’ 

‘Yeah.’ Rose’s lips were pursed, then she looked at him. ‘Are you okay?’ 

‘Aside from getting beaten in the face repeatedly by an angry wizard? I’m just peachy.’ He managed a lopsided smile which made his nose hurt. ‘Don’t worry about me. Selena did her work well. I’ll be fine. Are _you_ okay? I’m getting the impression I’ve missed something pretty major.’ 

‘I’ll… tell you about it, some time,’ said Rose, not insincerely. ‘Do you have any idea what’s going on in Portugal that might -’ 

‘Stop.’ Matt winced, lifting a hand. ‘You need to - stop, and listen for a moment.’ Guilt swarmed in him, but then, this was a situation of his own making. Surely there was nothing wrong with undoing it, even if it felt like a betrayal. ‘I lied when I said that the wizard was pitched off that edge by the golem. The golems were taken out by then - one fell, I’d stabbed the other one. The wizard who survived was Stunned, but so was Scorpius. And the wizard who fell - tackled me, beat me, did _this_ …’ He gestured to the marks on his face, probably some shade of purple by now. Rose remained silent, watching him, and though he saw apprehension in her gaze, he saw no surprise. ‘He wasn’t about to stop any time soon. I don’t know what Scorpius - he tackled him. Kicked him. Knocked him off me. And…’ Matt drew a slow breath. ‘Knocked him off the edge.’ 

Rose looked away. Little in her expression had changed. ‘Why did you lie in the first place?’ 

‘Because it didn’t look like he was in a state to deal with everyone swarming him. Because he was - I just did, okay? Maybe it was wrong. I thought it was the right thing to do, but he’s not telling you just yet, and you should know, and you should…’ Matt scowled, and didn’t care that this hurt. ‘…you should go to him. Talk to him. Tell him it wasn’t his fault. Tell him the guy was going to kill me, tell him the guy bloody deserved it, tell him that if there was ever a time to kill someone, _that was it_.’ He didn’t lift his gaze from the table, hating himself as he spoke, hating every single word of encouragement even though he knew it was right. ‘He’s going to need you now.’ 

There was a long pause, broken only when Rose reached for his hand, grabbing it for a quick squeeze, and he had to stop himself from pulling back. It wasn’t making him feel better. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured. 

He still didn’t look up. ‘I’m glad he pulled his head out of his arse. I’m glad he’s making you happy. He’s not such a bad guy. He needs help, he needs _you_ , and even if I was right to cover it up back there, he obviously can’t bring himself to tell you the truth, so _I_ _’m_ telling you the truth.’ Now he did tug his hand free. 

When he saw her expression out of the corner of his gaze, it was pained. ‘Matt…’ 

‘Just - just go, okay?’ _So this is what it feels like to do the right thing._   
  
_It_ _’s pretty awful._   
  
She hesitated - then she pulled her hand back and stood, and without another word headed into the bunkroom. 

Silence fell for a long moment, silence where he slumped on the table, burying his face in his hands, letting out a long, slow, shaking breath. He didn’t move for a while, not until he heard the rustle from the door to the girls’ bunkroom, and when his hands slid down his face it was to reveal the tired and strained form of Selena. He frowned. ‘You look terrible.’ 

‘Says the man who got punched in the face today.’ But her voice was subdued, gaze concerned as she watched him. ‘I couldn’t help but overhear. Perhaps because I was stood at the door listening. You’re a good guy, Doyle.’ 

‘I’m a sap and an idiot.’ 

‘Sometimes you have to let go. Even if you really don’t want to.’ 

‘And it sucks.’ But he stood, brow furrowing deeper. ‘Something happened in that fort.’ 

‘Oh, what did Rose -’ 

‘She implied things, but everyone’s been creeping around like that place turned them inside-out. I’m starting to think a broken nose and cracked ribs were the _least_ of the damage done in there. Talk to me.’ 

She lifted her gaze to his, green eyes glinting. ‘I’m done talking,’ said Selena. ‘I’m done discussing how bloody awful things are. Going round and round, over and over, dissecting how terrible I feel.’ She hesitated. ‘The only thing you need to know is that place was seeped in death magic. I saw him. I said goodbye. I let him go.’ 

Matt’s breath caught. ‘I’m sorry.’ It seemed like the thing to say, empty though it was, however little he understood. A thousand theories ran through his mind, but it wasn’t the time to analyse what had happened to her, the exact nature of the magic around Ager Sanguinis. ‘Do you feel better for it?’ 

‘I feel tired - no, exhausted. Sort of hollow. About as wretched, pathetic, and useless as I’ve felt since his death.’ Selena frowned. ‘I don’t know if that means, “no”.’ 

‘It’s going to be pretty empty if I point out you’re not alone, isn’t it.’ 

The smallest of smiles tugged at the corner of her lips, grieving but sincere. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Because I’m feeling at last that maybe, _maybe_ , I’m going to be okay. Whatever it was, whatever happened, however much I just had everything I wanted dangled in front of me and then snatched away… at least I got to say goodbye. I don’t care how real it was. I got to say goodbye.’ 

Matt nodded, even though he didn’t fully understand. ‘That sounds like something pretty damned important.’ 

‘But I’m not going to sleep.’ She turned further into the tent, to the overstuffed sofas and armchairs deeper into the main room, and slumped onto one of the couches. ‘Could I borrow the Book if you’re going to bed?’ 

‘Even if I wanted to turn in,’ said Matt, following but not sitting down, ‘Rose is in there with Scorpius. So I’ll stay here. There aren’t many places I’d like to be _less_.’ 

Selena nodded. ‘You’ve had a hard night and Lisa’s outside. If you want to get some sleep, just use one of our bunks.’ 

‘I’m not leaving you out here on your own. At worst, we’ll go through the Book’s records to see what clues we can find for back in the fort -’ Then he winced, remembering Kythos, and how he’d upset her by inviting her to do research with him. ‘I’m not - I’m sorry -’ 

She lifted a hand. ‘Of all the things to turn me into a gibbering wreck today, research isn’t on that list. Thanks, Doyle. You’re not a bad sort.’ 

He snorted. ‘Such high praise.’ 

Selena dropped her gaze. ‘I mean it,’ she said, voice low. ‘Rose is here and around and does what she can but she’s got a lot on her plate. So do you, but - I appreciate it. I appreciate you stopping to take the time with me. You didn’t have to.’ 

‘Believe it or not, I chose to? It’s what friends do. And you’ve helped me out, even if it included giving me a clip round the ear and -’ 

‘Sit down.’ She was speaking even more quietly, but firmly, blurting out the words like they’d flee if she didn’t speak now. ‘Could you just - I don’t want to talk, sit down, please…’ 

He blinked - but did so, easing onto the sofa, brow furrowed with concern. ‘Are you -’ 

‘No, I’m not all right, and I’m not going to be all right for a while, but I’m getting there, and now… now I just want to get through tonight, and I’m hollow and empty and _cold_ and if there’s one thing I know from today it is that, above all, I am _tired_ of being _alone_ and I _really_ don’t mean anything by this but maybe, just maybe, it might make me feel a little bit better if you put your arm around me and perhaps tried to not read too much into it -’ 

‘Hey!’ He reached out, both hands on her shoulders, touch apprehensive but gentle. ‘It’s okay. We’re friends. C’mere.’ He drew her closer and she didn’t resist, sinking against him, and he leaned back on the sofa to wrap his arms around her. For a moment she was tense, fraught, but as her back rested against his chest he felt her relax and he, too, began to unwind. 

For a long time neither of them spoke, just lay back, comfortable in the embrace, comfortable on the cushioned chair, letting the aches of the day sink away from them. When she did speak, her voice was quiet, but less tense. ‘I’m getting used to being just me, and for just me to be something other than some selfish, superficial girl. And I want, for a bit, to sit and watch the world go by and not feel empty and alone.’ 

‘I know it’s not enough to make it all better,’ said Matt, picking his words carefully, ‘but I don’t want you to be alone. I’m here if you need me.’ 

‘I know,’ she murmured, and rested her head back on his shoulder. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat like this with a girl, and certainly couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat like this with a girl and _not_ been wondering when he’d get to kiss her next. ‘Because you’re here now.’

* * 

She’d not gone into the boys’ bunkroom before, and was starting to regret this entire gender segregation setup of theirs. Not that they had any spare rooms, but what had been coyness at the start of the expedition was starting to prove nothing more than inconveniencing this many weeks in, after all they’d been through. It kept them apart with what felt like childish rules that she suspected nobody other than the two of them cared about, and they only cared about them through a certain degree of self-consciousness. 

Idly, Rose wondered what it would take to add another room to a magically-defined and condensed space like a tent, and then she saw Scorpius on the bottom bunk and all academic musings flew from her mind. He spotted her as she came in, and now he _did_ sit up, expression creasing with apprehension and guilt. 

‘Rose…’ 

‘It’s okay.’ She lifted her hands and moved to sit down next to him. ‘Matt told me.’ 

‘He -’ 

‘Considering he fibbed to cover up in the first place. It’s okay. I understand. I’m not angry with you.’ 

Colour had faded from his face, and when she put her hand on his, it was shaking. ‘I…’ 

‘You didn’t have to tell me, and you didn’t hide it from me. And he told me how it happened. You _saved_ him.’ 

Then he was grabbing her, pulling her to him, and buried his face in her shoulder. ‘I didn’t know what to do.’ His voice was strained, panicked, muffled. ‘I’d been Stunned, by the time I got up he was on Matt, I thought he’d _kill_ him, I was too sluggish with a wand, so all I could do was kick him and he went over…’ 

She wrapped her arms around him, stroking his hair, and for a moment just made a low, soothing sound as she held him. ‘It was an accident.’ 

‘No, no - I knew, somewhere in my mind, I knew the risk, I knew pitching him over was the _best_ way to take him down…’ 

‘And if you hadn’t?’ she whispered, and got a long silence in return. ‘They came after us. You defended yourself, and you defended Matt, and if you’d both been killed, he might have come after everyone else. And we weren’t in much of a state to protect ourselves. You did the right thing, Scorp.’ 

‘I killed someone.’ His voice was weak. ‘You’re saying that was the right thing.’ 

Her lips thinned, even though he couldn’t see her expression. ‘I’m saying you did what you had to. I’m saying you did all you could to keep us safe. I can imagine it was horrible, and it _should_ be horrible, it shouldn’t be easy, we don’t want to become those people.’ _Just like I don_ _’t want to root through Lisa’s brain, even with Fred’s warning. It’s a power, but it’s a responsibility. We don’t always take the easy route, because the easy route isn’t always the_ right _route_. ‘But it happened, and you did it to protect your friends, the people you love, and you didn’t act through cruelty or thoughtlessness. You didn’t have a choice.’ 

‘I could have tried a spell. I could have concentrated more. Tried to shoot straight.’ 

‘And if you failed? If you got his attention? I know what it feels like to come out of a Stun, you’re not fighting fit immediately after, you’re sluggish in body and thought and I’m not surprised you couldn’t get back into the fight. If he then came for you, do you think you could have defended yourself?’ 

There was a long silence, and she could feel his breathing, deep and ragged. When he spoke at last, his voice was small. ‘I just see him, every time I close my eyes. That moment he felt thin air beneath his feet and began to fall. I didn’t even know his name, but that look on his face is going to be with me ‘til the day I die.’ 

‘Maybe it should,’ she murmured. ‘Maybe we shouldn’t forget these things. But that doesn’t mean you were wrong, and it doesn’t mean I think any less of you. _Any_ less.’ 

He gave a low, pained, empty chuckle. ‘I don’t deserve you.’ 

‘It’s not about deserve. You’re _mine_ , and I’m not letting you go anywhere, and I’m not letting you retreat back into yourself, and I’m not letting you _torment_ yourself.’ She pulled back enough to see his face, hands sliding to his cheeks, gaze flickering across his expression. ‘I saw what it’d be like to lose you, today. That’s not a world I want to be in.’ 

She was slow as she lifted her lips to his, her touch feather-light for the moment, letting him respond, letting him come to her. For a heartbeat he was hesitant, clumsy in the embrace, like he’d gone numb from the day’s dangers and was stirring deadened emotions that didn’t quite respond. But she tugged him closer, let the kiss tease, lingering and encouraging because she had no words to make it better but this, _this_ could maybe make him feel alive, remind him he didn’t need to go into the cold and be alone. 

He broke the embrace for a shaky, uncertain sigh, but his breath was warm when it mingled with hers. Then his fingers were at her jaw, touch careful but possessive, and there was no hesitation the next time his lips sought hers. 

It might not have been words, but it was answers, and it was all the answer she needed to give him. Warmth. Comfort. Hers.

* * 

‘We need to talk,’ said Albus, and Lisa considered disapparating right there and then. Find the nearest horizon, run, get in touch with Prometheus, and abandon this entire undertaking. 

Not because she thought he’d busted her. If he’d busted her he wouldn’t be coming to talk, he’d be coming at her with a wand and he wouldn’t be alone. But she was going to have to give answers, and she didn’t know what she was saying. To maintain her cover or her sanity. 

They’d flashed before her eyes in that place over and over, the people she’d killed. Some she’d despised, some she pitied, plenty she simply _nothinged_. Until then. Until they’d been screaming in pain all over again, screaming at her, and she’d not had a next task to move onto to block it out, a purpose to distract her. There had always been a purpose, even if that was ‘efficiency’. Prometheus always held back from doing things needlessly - would be cruel and pitiless if the situation called for it, but why go out of one’s way to be malicious if the situation did not? It was ineffective in its own right. 

She hadn’t always agreed where the line was, but she had agreed with the principle, and so with every life taken there had been work to do afterwards. Or she’d really, really wanted to kill them. 

Either way, she didn’t stop to listen to the screams. And now they were chasing her. 

She was sat outside the tent, within the protective wards. If she squinted south, she could see the rocky ridge into which Ager Sanguinis was nestled; their apparition had only been line of sight with their imprecise maps of the region, but that had been enough to get away from any possible fallout of their run-in with the Council wizards. 

She wondered why they’d been there. She hadn’t told anyone. It seemed legitimately like they were there for their own reasons, probably Raskoph’s reasons. The Chalice was only ever going to be step one of their plan - there would be a second step, and other plans besides. She’d never cared about them before. They’d never seemed relevant. Now, they were very relevant. 

But Lisa didn’t turn at Albus’ words, kept her gaze on that southern ridge. ‘You want to know if you can trust me.’ 

The sand crunched under his feet as he went to stand over her, big and looming and yet the furthest thing from intimidating - even though she knew he was a devil with a wand, even though she knew his reassuring strength could be turned to cruelty if he chose. ‘I want to know who you are.’ 

_No. You don_ _’t._   
  
She drew a slow breath. A full-on lie wasn’t going to suffice here. ‘I was a Muggle girl, or so I thought, growing up in Algiers. No money. No opportunities. Just me and my mother. I helped her make end meets by picking pockets, and so caught the attention of one of the gangs which ran in my area. The man I talked of back in there - he was the one in charge. One day, ten years ago, I picked what I thought was the “wrong” pocket. I got a wand. Off a wizard in the city who’d put up charms to not be noticed by Muggles, who was very good at what he did. He realised soon enough and collared me, but knew I had to be a witch. If I hadn’t been a witch I wouldn’t have even spotted him, paid attention to him.’ 

This was all true. But the wizard in question had been Prometheus Thane, and she could hardly tell Albus that. ‘His name was Dugare, and he was a part of a magical smuggling operation across the Mediterranean, between Algiers and Marseilles.’ Henri Dugare did exist, as did his operation; Thane had worked with them in the past. But Dugare was a petty and lazy man who wouldn’t have gone to Algiers himself, let alone done what Thane did for her. 

‘I don’t know why he did what he did. But he took pity on me, took me in. Taught me how to use magic, taught me how to take care of myself. And I worked for it - I was small and could get into places others couldn’t, I was easily overlooked, easily ignored. And as I grew up and became harder to ignore, I was better and better with a wand.’ _Better and better at lying, tricking people, luring them in._   
  
‘When I was sixteen, though, something seemed to - I wanted something else from life, and he seemed to think it would be best if I _didn_ _’t_ spend the rest of my life as a part of a smuggling ring. So I did some training, had some documents forged, and when I was seventeen I joined the magical community in Paris. Dugare got me a job with the security company; he had contacts there, ironically. And I trained there, honed my skills there, until I was hired to protect Professor Dresdner and - the rest is history.’ He had sat down next to her as she spoke, arms resting on his knees, hands turning his wand over and over as he stared at the south and listened. ‘But yes, before I left Dugare, while I worked for him, I killed people. And I’ve killed people working for the company, though that’s been a bit more legitimate.’ 

Albus drew a slow breath. ‘How old were you when you first killed someone?’ 

‘Fourteen.’ 

‘Jesus.’ 

Lisa frowned at the tone in his voice - not judgement, but pity. ‘He was going to uncover our whole operation. Dugare and the others would have gone to prison.’ 

‘And so you’d have lost the only people who ever did you a kindness.’ Albus looked sideways at her. ‘I’m so sorry.’ 

‘ _Sorry_? Why are you sorry?’ 

‘Because for so long you were dependent on horrible people, when you didn’t know better, had no reason to know any better.’ 

She was on her feet, indignant even though he wasn’t speaking against Dugare - despising, _despising_ the pity in his voice, the condescension and judgement being laid at the feet of, in her mind, Prometheus Thane. ‘He wasn’t horrible. He was the only person who _ever_ gave me a chance -’ 

‘And he turned you into his child soldier,’ Albus said in a slow, level voice, also standing. ‘I understand that he did a lot for you, and I understand why that’s powerful. And I can’t begin to understand what you went through in your childhood which makes that _such_ a huge deal.’ 

‘No, you can’t. I know he was - a smuggler, a killer, a criminal, I don’t _care_ -’ 

‘You obviously _do_ , because you left that life,’ Albus pointed out. 

_No, I didn_ _’t. I’m still his. I’ll_ ** _always_** _be his, you hear me, never **yours** -_   
  
‘ _Nobody_ else before him ever cared. Nobody. Not governments, not schools, not so-called “good people” -’ 

‘Why did you leave?’ He looked her in the eye. ‘You went straight, entered an honest way of life. Why?’ 

Now she was going to have to lie directly, and drew a slow, raking breath. ‘I knew it wouldn’t last. I wanted to see more of the world. I wanted -’ Lisa hesitated, not sure what to add, seeing that searching glint in Albus’ eyes. _He knows that_ _’s not the full story - but there is no full story. Damn it. Why_ ** _does_** _Lisa want to be free?_ Nothing was occurring to her. 

_Why might Eva want to be free?_   
  
And then there it was. This tiny glint in her mind, a shine she’d ignored for years but, now she turned her gaze on it, grew brighter. Her breath caught. ‘…I wanted to make my own choices. In my own right. Without thinking about what he’d think, without being limited by anyone else.’ 

He gave an awkward flicker of a smile. ‘You can make those choices now.’ 

She had to fight to keep her expression level, his words like a punch in the gut. ‘I know. And my choice right now is to bring Thane to justice so I can… get back to that life. I worked for it. It’s mine.’ 

This would have all been easier if it weren’t for Raskoph. She’d had to show her hand too soon, set to survival mode when she’d expected to have time to establish herself amongst the group more before action. But they’d swung from crisis to crisis, Prometheus cutting off contact, completely alone with the Council out to kill her. Except she hadn’t been alone, because she’d been in the same boat as the people she’d been planning on betraying, possibly even killing when the time came. She’d not yet fought the Council - she’d fought Dementors and dark magic. Enemies she’d had no reason to hold back against, either with her wand or by her planning. 

And now she’d spilt more truths to one of her targets than she had to anyone but Prometheus Thane. Partly to maintain the facade, because too many cracks had shown in her armour thanks to that damned castle and its damned dark magic energies shattering her masks. Partly because the masks being broken were more than just the mask of Lisa Delacroix. Eva Saida - that name, that name felt like a lifetime away - had masks, too, and Ager Sanguinis had weakened them. She had never thought about those murdered people before, but now they were back, crawling around in her mind. 

Why _had_ she done it? Killed so many? 

Because she’d been told to, told to do it by someone she trusted implicitly, and then it had gone on to become part of her. A tool in her arsenal, like a smile or a sharp comment or a swish of a wand, a weapon to be used to keep herself safe. _Take a life. It_ _’ll make the situation easier._

She let out a slow breath. ‘If you don’t trust me because of this, if you don’t want me working with you - I understand. I’ll go once we’re out of Syria.’ _Rejoin Thane, say it didn_ _’t work out, get back to everything being so much simpler -_   
  
‘No.’ Albus’ voice was quick, tense. ‘If you want to go back to France, go back to your old life, I understand. But I won’t _make_ you go. Because - I can’t stand in judgement of you, I _don_ _’t_ understand the things you’ve been through, and I’ve had the _smallest_ glimpse of what I’d do for the people I care about in times of desperation. And I say this as a guy who was brought up wanting for nothing. My father’s a bloody hero. I’m not pretending that because I lost my temper once I understand your life, but that’s the point, I - I _don_ _’t_ understand it.’ 

Lisa raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re not making much sense.’ 

Albus let out a slow, raking breath. ‘I cannot conceive of the life you had, before or with Dugare. I can’t claim you should have done anything differently. Do I think you did horrid things? Yes. But I know you’ve been changing your ways and if that’s - maybe it’s not everything, maybe it’s not enough, but I don’t understand whose life it makes better for me to condemn you. I _do_ know that by _not_ condemning you, by you working _with_ us, we have someone skilled and capable and we can help a _lot_ of people.’ He looked her in the eye. ‘And when you were taking lives, I was still worrying about making Quidditch captain. I don’t doubt you grew up quickly, but you should have never been made to do that by Dugare, never been made to _want_ to do that by Algiers.’ 

She looked away. ‘Don’t paint me as a victim, Albus. I knew what I was doing.’ 

‘When you were fourteen and knew no other way? I doubt it -’ 

‘What about when I was seventeen and knew full well?’ 

‘How could you know full well?’ Albus snapped. ‘When that man turned you into his agent, his killer, when that was all you’d known, when he was the only person you’d ever trusted -’ 

_Shut up, he_ _’s a wiser, smarter man than you, he’s kinder -_   
  
She turned away, air burning in her lungs with the unspoken knee-jerk reaction, because the words caught in her throat. _He saved me._   
  
_He then made you his soldier._   
  
‘I made my choices,’ she said in a low voice. 

‘You should never have had that choice put before you in the first place.’ Albus drew a deep breath. ‘My father - he’s told me his story. How he and the greatest dark wizard who ever threatened Britain were, in the early days, not so different after all. Suffered in similar ways, were isolated in similar ways. And he says the compassion that _defined_ why they were different came from the people around him. Friends who cared for him for no reason other than that they _had_ that love in them, and chose to love him. Parents he learnt hadn’t just been taken from him by an uncaring world, but had _sacrificed_ themselves for him, because they loved him. Eventually, sure, Voldemort had people around him who wanted to care for him, help him, maybe even love him, and he didn’t let them. Perhaps that was his own choice, his own fault. Or perhaps, simply, it was too late for him.’ 

She looked over her shoulder at him, arching an eyebrow. ‘You’re comparing me to Voldemort and I really don’t understand the point.’ 

He sighed. ‘I believe that people are made by those around them as much as their own choices. Any time anyone calls me a good guy, I know it’s because I was raised to be one. It’s why I admire and respect Scorpius so much; because he had so little love from his family and is still one of the most compassionate people I know -’ 

‘But he had you.’ 

Another sigh. ‘…yeah. Because I wanted to help him. Because I had help a lot of people didn’t ever have.’ 

Lisa looked away, scowling again at the distant, gloomy ridge in the south. ‘So you’re saying it’s not my fault, because I grew up not knowing better. Doesn’t that mean all of your dashing heroics mean nothing, because you were brought up to perform dashing heroics?’ 

_Why are you trying to hurt him and drive him off? This is the worst infiltration -_   
  
‘They means less,’ said Albus simply, and he stepped up beside her, shoulders squared. ‘But we’re tested in that every day. Tested on if we’ll do the right thing when it’s hard, or the wrong thing because it’s easy. The first time I was tested, I failed. I don’t ever want to fail again. Maybe it’s because I was taught that you do the right thing no matter what, but I also remember what it feltlike to hurt someone because it was _easier_ , and - and I don’t want to do that ever again.’ 

She hesitated. ‘Are you going to tell the others?’ 

He looked down at her, and there was now something piercing in his green-eyed gaze, reassuring and yet hard. ‘You regret killing those people.’ It was half-observation, half-question. 

Eva swallowed. ‘Yes.’ 

‘You’re not that person any more. The one that hurts others to get ahead. At least, I don’t think you are. I’ve not seen that in you, that malice, that simple cruelty.’ 

_Because I_ _’ve hidden it_ , she told herself. _Because that_ _’s the point of going undercover. Lie, trick, deceive._   
  
_It takes more than some scary ghost stories to change a person._   
  
Lisa drew a sharp breath. ‘No. I don’t want to be that person any more.’ 

‘Then I’m not going to tell them,’ Albus said, a hand reaching out to rest gently on her shoulder - and, for once in her life, her instinct wasn’t to flinch away from being touched. 

She closed her eyes, partly so she couldn’t see him, partly so she couldn’t see the ridge upon which sat Ager Sanguinis, with all her sins laid bare. _And I_ _’m going to betray and destroy you._


	32. Whistle in the Dark

The Veil loomed in the centre of the chamber, a shimmering sea of grey that glowed darkness. Even with the morning sun breaking through the round hole in the ceiling, the pale stonework was cast in shadows that danced and twitched at the corners of his vision. Matt ran a hand through his hair and tried to not touch his still-aching nose. ‘It wasn’t kept in here.’ 

Albus squinted at the Veil. ‘Not that I’m eager to linger,’ he said, ‘but are you sure?’ 

‘None of the Celtic knot-work of Emrys,’ said Matt, swishing his wand about the circular chamber. ‘That’s what the book described.’ 

‘Knot-work of Emrys?’ said Rose. 

He shrugged. ‘I think it’s associated explicitly with the Chalice, and so I think it’s probably associated with Myrddin Emrys. It’s our clue, it’s our reason for being here. If you can’t detect the Chalice’s energies, we need to look for that.’ 

‘I probably _can_ detect the Chalice’s energies, now we’re here. It’s hard - that… that _thing_ is giving off a lot of necromantic magic.’ Rose wrinkled her nose as the Veil. ‘The closer we get to the Chalice, the easier it’ll be to find the trace of its magic amongst all the… death. Fewer trails to chase.’ 

He and Albus stayed silent as Rose lifted her wand and began to walk in a wide circuit around the flat Veil, eyes half-closed, muttering to herself. Her voice echoed off the close walls and bounced to Matt’s ears from different angles, and he flinched at the hissing whispers which reached him at the same time, an undercurrent of words not spoken by any of them. A quick look at Albus’ tense shoulders suggested he was getting the same thing. 

At last Rose opened her eyes and nodded towards the stairway up which Matt and Scorpius had fled the day before. ‘That way.’ 

‘There’s nothing up there,’ said Matt. 

‘It’s not coming from _up_ ,’ said Rose. 

They tromped through to the short corridor leading to the winding stairway, and Rose shrugged as they looked about the stonework. ‘What can I say? It’s coming from more or less in front of us. I don’t know how far, but it’s on this level, and it’s further in.’ 

‘I didn’t take a close look yesterday. Too busy running. Maybe there’s something here,’ Matt said, and hunkered down at the steps to peer at the masonry. He gave a thin smile. ‘I see it. It’s faint, but there’s writing on these.’ 

Rose stepped up beside him, peering over his shoulder. ‘Looks like Greek to me.’ She hesitated. ‘Literally. Ancient Greek lettering. I wasn’t being facetious.’ 

‘Of course it does.’ He gave a smug grin and reached out to tap his wand on one of the steps. The faintly carved lettering gained the slightest glow, and his smile broadened as he heard Rose’s breath catch with surprise. ‘It is the alpha…’ Then he jumped up a couple of steps, examining the lettering until he got to the one he wanted, and his wand came out to tap that, too. ‘And the omega.’ 

And from below, at the bottom of the spiral stairway, came the scraping of rock on rock, and a soft, ‘Huh,’ from Albus. 

Matt looked down to see the right-hand side of the stairway had slid open, leaving a narrow opening into a low-roofed corridor deeper into the belly of the cliff. ‘” _I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely_.” More from Revelation. I think the Templars not only believed the Chalice of Emrys was holy, but I think they believed it would have role in the end of the world.’ 

Rose’s lips thinned as they peered down the corridor. ‘And what do _you_ think?’ 

He shrugged, but didn’t hesitate before he ducked under the low opening and, stooping, made his way along the gloomy corridor, a bead of light from his wand showing the way. ‘I think it’s a clue. No more, no less.’ 

It was not a long corridor, which was just as well as Matt was feeling a crick in his neck after not too long, and he didn’t want to think about how hard this would prove for Albus, taking up the rear without complaint. The masonry here was old, but the air was not stale, which struck him as odd for a sealed passageway. But soon it opened up to a wider chamber and he could straighten - and the sight before him made him grin, even if that hurt his pained nose. 

‘Jackpot.’ 

This chamber was not all smooth masonry, having been built into a natural cave. While some patches of wall were flat bricks, other contours of the room were untouched, jagged rock, especially where the passageway went deeper, the original cave curling into a route further into darkness. 

Albus nodded at that. ‘Do you think it’s a way out?’ 

‘Maybe. Maybe it was a bolt-hole.’ Matt didn’t give it much thought, though, because his gaze was drawn elsewhere: the centrepiece of the masonry. A tall arch not dissimilar to the one he’d seen in the Catacombs in Paris lay along the wall, bearing the same Celtic knot-work and decoration. The platform at the middle, the centre of all of this grandeur, was similarly flat, though that didn’t surprise him. 

Rose lifted her wand. ‘Yeah. That same signature as in Paris, the same one they put on the fake. That’s here, a lingering presence. Though, interestingly, I think it’s older than the one in Paris.’ 

‘Great,’ muttered Albus. ‘So the Chalice _was_ here, but then it came to Paris. This isn’t another lead at all.’ 

‘No, but it gives us a time-frame of when the Chalice was last confirmed accounted for.’ Matt approached the archway, before his gaze landed on what he’d thought was a flat piece of masonry under the plinth upon which the Chalice had once rested. There was a seam, and when he tugged at the horizontal piece of rock, he could lift it like a lid. 

Under was a small stone gap, and it was not empty. Despite the pain, again, he grinned, and pulled out the leather-bound book that sat inside. ‘And _this_ might be a lead.’

* * 

‘So I’ve never heard of Tomar,’ said Scorpius, hands wrapped around the steaming mug of tea. 

‘It’s a city in Portugal.’ Matt sat up, the leather-bound book in his lap, and he looked to them all sat around the table in the tent’s main chamber. ‘Relevant to our interests, it was a Templar town. History time.’ 

‘Oh, _good_ ,’ sighed Scorpius, but leaned back on his chair to listen. 

‘The Templars were spread across Europe - all sorts of holdings - until their arrest and the executions of the early 14th century,’ said Matt, ignoring him. ‘But five or so years later, King Dinis of Portugal created the Order of Christ, to which a lot of the surviving Templars flocked. So I’ve been doing some more reading on them. They set up their headquarters in Tomar in about 1350, and the city grew.’ 

Rose frowned. ‘The wizards fled alongside the Templars?’ 

‘The Church was not insignificantly powerful and regularly had its clashes with the magical world in that era.’ Matt shrugged. ‘Some wizarding historians even theorise that the Templars were hunted down and destroyed by the Church specifically because wizards were _so_ entrenched in their ranks, though most of those historians have noted anti-Church biases. It was a different world back then; the lines between Muggle and wizard were fuzzier. And a lot of the wizards in the Templars were perfectly devoted to their duty, their work. They wanted to continue it. So they went to Portugal, along with the Muggles, and became a part of the Order of Christ.’ 

‘Okay,’ said Albus. ‘What’s in Tomar?’ 

‘The Convent of Christ is likely to be at the centre of whatever Raskoph and the others are after,’ said Matt. ‘I admit, I don’t know why. It was the official headquarters and it does have secret sections, according to my sources - wings hidden by magic, for use by the wizards, though these were never found or confirmed. But it’s - I mean, it’s a well-known place. Muggle tourists. _Wizard_ tourists. We’re not talking another lost ruin full of secrets, it’s been pored over for centuries, it’s an inhabited town.’ 

‘Do they have reason to suspect the Chalice is there, you think?’ said Lisa. 

‘Maybe. Let’s think this through. The Chalice _was_ here, in Syria. Then no more.’ He patted the book in his lap. ‘De Sablé - and I _really_ want to know who the hell he is - has left us extensive records about Ager Sanguinis. I’ve only had about an hour to scan over them, so between that and figuring out why Tomar might be important, I’m not the _best_ I’ve ever been on research.’ 

‘That’s fine.’ Albus gave a small, firm smile. ‘Tell us what you found.’ 

‘Okay.’ Matt sat up. ‘First things first: These records span about a hundred years. All written by Reynald de Sablé.’ 

The six of them sat in a long, contemplative silence, before Scorpius cleared his throat. ‘Ten points to the possibility of the Chalice of Emrys granting longevity.’ 

‘Yeah,’ said Matt, brow furrowed. ‘A lot of people died in the Battle of Ager Sanguinis. Both battles. The magical one happened near here, and from what I can read it was one of the biggest wizard versus wizard battles in the last thousand years. Those didn’t happen often, and they certainly didn’t happen a lot in the second millennium. Not enough “space”. But this was a battle of hundreds, thousands of wizards fighting each other, and a lot of them died by magic. This, de Sablé wrote, left “ripples”. I’ve only skimmed his notes but I think he means those pockets of dark magic, the walls between life and death being thinned. Either it _caused_ that Veil, or the Veil was made in order to _contain_ that rift. I haven’t got that far in his writing yet. Either way, this site was considered dangerous and valuable, and so for the Templars’ own purposes _and_ to stop it from being used by their enemies, the fort was constructed. The Chalice wasbrought here by de Sablé in about 1190 when the Third Crusade broke out, and he writes how he had hoped that its holy powers would stymie the damage and danger of such dark magics in this region.’ 

Selena arched an eyebrow. ‘Holy?’ 

‘That’s the word he used. He refers to it as magical, yes, but _also_ holy. Remember, these Templar wizards were Christians as well as magic-users. Frankly I find it more interesting that he differentiates at _all_ between what he can do and holy powers, instead of assuming his magic to _be_ a holy power, but I digress.’ 

‘What _were_ these writings? They weren’t that well hidden,’ said Rose. 

‘Unless you count a clue which needed someone to have some knowledge of the Christian Bible to get. Truth be told? I think they were a warning for whoever came next. The Templars left Ager Sanguinis because the Christians were falling back from Antioch, leaving the Levant. Not only couldn’t they hold somewhere like this, but it didn’t _matter_ so much if the Muslim wizards got their hands on the place. The Holy Land was lost. Sections of this are even written in Arabic, which I don’t have a hope in hell of translating, but it makes me think that for all he wanted to stop his enemies from getting this place, he wanted even _less_ for them to screw around with it.’ 

‘I could translate it,’ said Lisa calmly. 

‘Oh.’ Matt scratched his nose. ‘I forgot that. Sure.’ 

‘Does he actually say where he went next?’ butted in Scorpius. 

‘Yeah - back to Paris, in about 1286. Though it would seem that de Sablé didn’t spend the _entire_ time in Ager Sanguinis - he would leave for years at a time, but he always came back until the fall of the fort. Still, he left for good then, which is about thirty years after the birth-date on that tomb in the catacombs.’ Matt scrubbed his face with his hands. ‘This confirms the real Chalice was here, in Syria, at that date. The magical signature is there, there are further writings I can study on the effect the Chalice had on this place, and de Sablé has mentioned several times of the Chalice being used to heal wounded soldiers out in the Levant.’ 

‘Oh,’ said Scorpius. ‘So now we _only_ have a window of about seven hundred and fifty years in which the Chalice might have been swapped for a fake in Paris.’ 

‘I’ve got a theory, actually. If this comes _so_ close to the fall of the Templars, and if Raskoph is for some reason interested in the headquarters of the successors of the Templars, the place to which so many fled… what if the Chalice was swapped at the fall of the Order? So much Templar wealth was claimed by Philip IV of France and Pope Clement V; what if they made a fake of one of their most holy and valuable artifacts to stop it from falling into the wrong hands?’ 

Albus cocked his head at Matt. ‘Do you have much evidence behind that?’ 

‘No,’ he admitted. ‘It’s a theory. I’d have to read more of de Sablé’s writings here to be sure. _But_ , it doesn’t need to be right. Because it sounds like Raskoph has at least considered the possibility that the Chalice might have followed the Templars fleeing to Portugal, or that records of it might have.’ 

‘He might know something we don’t,’ Albus agreed with a sigh. 

‘What bothers _me_ ,’ said Rose, ‘is that Council wizard didn’t think he was coming to Ager Sanguinis to look for the Chalice. The Chalice didn’t even pop up in his mind. He was sent by Raskoph for _recon_ in the fort. I’m worried they were interested in the Veil.’ 

‘We’re starting to fall into conjecture,’ said Lisa. ‘Maybe Raskoph isn’t going to Tomar for the Chalice, but he’s still going to Tomar. Are we going after him?’ 

‘I think we should,’ said Matt. ‘I want to know why he’s interested in the place. And this theory that the Chalice was taken to Portugal is worth investigating. Of course, it’ll take me - us - a while to go through de Sablé’s notes.’ He inclined his head to her in acknowledgement of his need of her translating aid. 

She nodded. ‘What’re we doing with our prisoner? The Council wizard.’ 

‘His name’s Spinks,’ said Rose, voice a little flat. ‘I can alter his memories so he thinks a golem killed his partner, that we were never here, and send him back to report to Raskoph.’ 

‘ _Or_ we don’t let him get to report back to Raskoph,’ said Selena. 

Albus looked at her. ‘Are you seriously suggesting we kill him?’ 

She tilted her chin up. ‘Are we going to get righteous about this? He would have killed us, and yes, yes, we’re better than them. But Raskoph wanted something from Ager Sanguinis - we should try to stop that as much as possible, and if we don’t know what he wanted then we don’t know how to fiddle with his memories to throw off the leads.’ 

‘If two of Raskoph’s people go missing out here, he’ll just send _more_ people, and we don’t want them to suspect they found us,’ said Matt. 

‘Yes, but we win time if they drop off the face of the map,’ said Selena. ‘If this guy reports back in, he does so soon, and then Raskoph can act on his information. No report, no information, it slows Raskoph down.’ 

Rose shifted her weight. ‘This shouldn’t be up for discussion -’ 

‘Because you don’t like it, Weasley? We can _discuss_ it,’ said Selena. ‘And if it’s so abhorrent, then you can talk me down.’ 

‘No,’ said Albus, voice low, firm. ‘I’m not going to try to talk you down. Because you’re right. There are significant gains to killing Spinks, our defenceless prisoner, out here. It’ll slow down Raskoph.’ He leaned back on his chair. ‘He’s tied up and unconscious in the storage room. Go ahead.’ 

Selena blinked, and the room fell silent as everyone subconsciously held their breath. Matt closed the Book as silently as he could, Scorpius just stared at the table as Rose reached for his hand, and Lisa watched Albus, her expression utterly flat. He, for his part, did not take his gaze off Selena, who sat, chewing her lip. 

Eventually she gave the gentlest, wryest snort. ‘Fine. Point made,’ she said, and didn’t move. 

Rose exhaled with relief. ‘I’ll fiddle with his memories, blame it on the golems. We’ve already dumped his companion’s body through the Veil. He’ll lose some time but I’m sure I can plant some notions in his head to blame the weird magics.’ 

‘In which case,’ said Albus, ‘I think we have our next move. Rose, do you think you can apparate us to Aleppo?’ 

‘I’ve been there. I know where we are now. I have no concerns about getting lost in a desert.’ She nodded. ‘That should be do-able. But we’ve still got a trip acrossthe entirety of southern Europe now.’ 

‘Should we try to disguise ourselves and find some wizarding Floo establishments?’ said Selena. 

‘You still need the papers for international travel,’ said Rose. ‘We might do better if we got a proper high-speed Muggle train, though - but there’s a reason we took the slower ones; they’re _cheaper_ and more discreet. We don’t have tickets and we have very little money.’ 

‘I think it’s about time,’ said Scorpius, ‘we stopped being coy and just started Confounding Muggle ticket conductors. I don’t _care_ if it’s stealing, we’re trying to _save the world_.’ 

‘He makes a good point,’ said Matt. 

Selena raised an eyebrow. ‘Can’t we just have Rigby apparate us across the globe with House Elf magic?’ 

Matt and Rose exchanged wide-eyed looks, until Matt shook his head. ‘Bad idea,’ he said. ‘ _Bad_ idea. On a short scale, sure, a House Elf can apparate a human. But the nature of their magic - there are reasons wizards can’t apparate that distance and it’s _not_ just to do with power limits, it’s to do with what a human body can cope with. You’d splinch to hell and back because you couldn’t physiologically keep up with being catapulted that far, with that kind of magic. It’s what makes portkeys so different; they don’t just take you from A to B, they take you from A to B while preserving your body’s integrity -’ 

‘Woah, nerd alert.’ Selena raised a hand. ‘You could have just said, “no”.’ 

He looked abashed. ‘I like to explain.’ 

‘Then the answer is plain,’ said Albus with a sigh. ‘Let’s swindle some Muggles.’

* * 

Their train out of Aleppo was thus faster and in better condition than the one before. Despite Scorpius’ protests, Rose had kept her Confounding of the involved Muggles to a minimum, remembering the warnings her mother had given her in the past. Her father’s manipulation of his driving test was a notorious cautionary tale around the house, and considering how her mother nagged him whenever they were in a car, she suspected Ron Weasley wished he’d played it straight to avoid grief later. 

But nowadays Muggles used more computers, more digital records which were harder to trick by magic. Once upon a time it was easy to bewilder a Muggle with spells, but now they had automated recordings which would notice discrepancies, and which wizards were rarely well-enough informed about to be able to bewitch. So the Ministry took a harder line against such incidents - a one-off glitch in Muggle records would ruin nobody’s secrets, but consistent gaps in their computerised databases would raise eyebrows. 

And the last thing the six of them needed was to be intercepted by an angry ticket conductor halfway across Turkey. 

‘Even if Rigby could get us some of the way, I don’t want to use him too much,’ said Scorpius, lounging on their bunk in their room. ‘It’s not that I don’t trust him but - he’s not like other House Elves. My father’s had loyalty drilled into him far, far too much. I can use him here and there but if my father ever has cause to ask him a question, Rigby won’t lie. He probably won’t even obfuscate.’ 

‘He’s our best way of communicating quickly and long-distance,’ Rose pointed out, looking away from the darkness that swished past the window of the rattling train. 

‘Sure. But if there’s one person I don’t want to know we’re alive, it’s my father.’ 

‘You still don’t trust him?’ 

‘Never have.’ Scorpius sat up. ‘He’s involved in the Council somehow. If we’re not getting in touch with _your_ parents because we worry people close to them sold us out, then we should _definitely_ be wary of Draco Malfoy.’ 

‘Thankfully, we’re doing all right on our own for now.’ 

He nodded, gaze going to the ceiling. ‘Still, Raskoph going to Tomar, sending those guys to Ager Sanguinis, it makes you wonder. What does the Council of Thorns even _want_? Okay, so they use Phlegethon and Eridanos to weaken governments, to cause discontent, and to make people fear them. So then they go on to seize power. Is this really about world domination? I feel silly just saying the words.’ 

‘Something about Dark Magic makes one apparently crave that. Power. Control. Even the whole world.’ 

‘Except every incident of this in history has included one figurehead. Grindelwald, Voldemort, Lucilla DeVreet. This is just a _Council_. Who the hell are the Council? Is it a literal Council, a group of rulers at the top with followers below? Is Raskoph in it, as Thane’s boss? Is Thane himself? Is Acosta in it, and has been “given” Brazil, or is he just…’ 

‘We don’t know.’ She reached out a hand for his, capturing it mid-frantic gesture. ‘And we can’t. All we can do is try to beat them to the Chalice. They obviously have plans for it.’ 

‘Which doesn’t reassure me. But, you’re right. And we’re doing fine. All we have to do is race across Europe and intercept and stop Raskoph when we don’t even know what he wants.’ 

‘Easily done.’ She gave a small smile as he settled, and let his hand go. ‘I’m going to go for a walk.’ 

Scorpius blinked. ‘What, up and down the train corridor, all relaxing, like?’ 

‘Yes.’ 

‘You’re a lousy liar.’ 

She gave him an apologetic smile. ‘Girl things.’ 

He looked abruptly less suspicious. ‘I don’t know if you mean stuff with the girls or other things, and either way I’ve decided I don’t want to know.’ 

‘I tried to shield your precious ears,’ she said, smile going lopsided, before she headed for the door. But her smile faded the moment she had her back to him, and she was relieved of the quiet darkness of the corridor. The train still rattled along its way, trundling to their destination, but it was late at night and most people would be asleep. 

She hoped everyone, really, would be asleep. 

So it was the softest knock she gave on the door to Lisa and Selena’s cabin, not wanting to be heard but needing to keep up appearances, and she was relieved to find the handle unlocked when she ducked in. Not that she couldn’t beat a lock, but if Lisa had locked the door she’d have put up charms, too, and Rose didn’t want to break through them, too. There were going to be enough breaches of privacy here. 

The cabin was dark, and she slowed her breathing when she shut the door behind her, taking a moment to adjust her eyes to the gloom. A flash of gold on the pillow of the bottom bunk proved it was Selena’s, and so her gaze set on the shape on the top bunk, motionless. Lisa Delacroix, fast asleep - sleeping better than, to Rose’s recollection, she had when they’d been sharing the tent in the Syrian Desert. They’d only left the sandy wastes hours ago, but it felt like a lifetime ago. 

_This is sick, Weasley._ Rose quirked an eyebrow to herself as she realised the internal monologue of self-judging had taken on Selena’s voice. That was curious. She wouldn’t normally think of Selena as the voice of reason and goodness. But Selena _was_ the champion against self-delusion, and for Rose to act like what she was doing here wasn’t morally suspect was delusional. 

And yet she raised her wand, fixed her gaze on Lisa, and breathed, ‘ _Legilimens_.’ 

There were lots of different ways to do Legilimency. She was best-versed in the methods she’d used against Paquet - the complex breaking through initial defences to allow unfettered access to thought and memory, but indiscreet. She’d never expected to need to use Legilimency without her target being aware of it - had never _wanted_ to use Legilimency without her target being aware of it. It was a road to a dark place. 

And she’d just gone running down that road. 

If she didn’t want Lisa to know she was reading her mind, all she could comfortably strike at were surface thoughts, and in sleep not only would Lisa not know what was going on, but those surface thoughts would be less guarded. 

_A blank, faceless shape, shambling forward through the gloom - unknown and yet so familiar, a familiarity tinged with horror and guilt and regret._ _‘You ssstand for thiss one?’_   
  
_A figure stood over her, tall and imposing and_ valiant _, and she looked up at him, reached out to take his hand. His grip was so firm it stopped her from being washed away by the tide of death and judgement._ _‘Don’t,’ she gasped at Albus, an imploring command._   
  
_She saw him tilt his jaw up half an inch, and when he spoke it was without hesitation._ _‘I do.’_   
  
_Why. Why, why, why me, I don_ _’t deserve your support, I deserve judgement, I deserve -_   
  
Although the scene was confusing, the feelings with it were undeniable. Fear, guilt, pain. And a rushing, bewildered gratitude towards Albus, tumbling and without understanding but still fierce. Against the darkness, he was there, and that shone brighter even than the vein of self-loathing Rose could feel alongside the memory. 

Then the memory changed. 

_Wham_. 

_Downing_ _’s fist took her off her feet, knocked her spinning onto the floor in the office in the Rabbit’s Foot. Hatred of him twisted and warped to fear in a heartbeat, all sense of control absolutely lost. Not just for him, not just for the knowledge that she was at his mercy and she knew he_ had _no mercy, but for the memories it evoked._   
  
_Helplessness, and the pain which came with it, and the breaking of her promises to herself that she would never be helpless again._   
  
_‘You know,’ said Downing, leering at her as he rubbed his knuckles. ‘I dare say I’m going to enjoy this.’ Then another blow, a backhand across her cheek that snapped her head to the side and_ \- 

And then there was a flurry of movement, a shape crashing into Rose and slamming her back against the cabin wall. Lisa had flown from the bed in one swift movement to grab a fistful of Rose’s jumper and pin her wand against her throat. From the glint in her eye, dark though the cabin was, Rose didn’t think Lisa was fully aware of where she was, of what was going on. 

The slight widening of her eyes as she saw her confirmed this. ‘Ah,’ said Lisa in a low, flat voice, her chest heaving. ‘That was only a matter of time.’ 

Rose didn’t struggle, remained pinned against the wall. ‘I’m -’ She stopped herself. Apologising would be churlish. ‘Yeah. It was.’ 

Then there was a soft _thump_ on the cabin floor, and Selena was on her feet, wand levelled at the back of Lisa’s head. ‘Okay. What’re we doing?’ Her voice was casual and bewildered, but enough to make Rose feel a surge of guilty gratitude. Selena had no idea what was going on, but her instinct was to back up Rose first, and ask questions later. 

Even if Rose rather deserved what was happening. 

Lisa froze, then lowered her own wand carefully, deliberately. ‘Security checkups.’ 

‘Oh. Good.’ Selena lifted her wand once Lisa let Rose go, and latched her gaze onto her. ‘So, er, Weasley, this isn’t your cabin.’ 

‘It’s not,’ said Rose, not taking her gaze off Lisa. ‘I had to be sure.’ 

Lisa’s lips were set in a thin line, but she nodded. ‘I expected this sooner. Though you’ll forgive me if I didn’t volunteer to have you go looting through my brain.’ 

‘ _Oh_ ,’ said Selena again. ‘We’re violating each other’s privacy and dignity because the fate of the world might hang in the balance.’ She backed off, though Rose saw her keep her wand in hand by her side. ‘How’s that working out?’ 

‘Albus didn’t ask me to do this.’ Rose’s gaze snapped back to Lisa. 

‘What does that matter?’ 

‘It matters to you.’ She saw Lisa flinch at that. ‘He’s been suspicious and worried, but I took this on _myself_ to do.’ 

‘Fine. Whatever. Did you find enough to satisfy you?’ 

The look in Downing’s eyes, that utter cruelty and _glee_ from causing pain, was a sight that would stay with Rose for a good long time. She’d never had a good look at Downing, even though she bore the scar of his handiwork, but already Lisa’s memory was mingling with her own. Had he taken such satisfaction from almost killing _her_ all those months ago? 

‘Satisfy isn’t the word,’ said Rose. ‘Convince? Maybe.’ 

‘I’d invite you to plunder my memories _more_ ,’ Lisa sneered. ‘Except, no, I won’t. And not just for my own privacy. Trust me. You’re better off not knowing.’ 

‘ _Well_ ,’ said Selena, leaning against the window with her wand slipped up the sleeve of her night-gown. ‘Hasn’t _this_ gone edgy all of a sudden?’ 

‘I had to be sure,’ Rose told Lisa. 

‘And what are you sure of now?’ 

She drew an awkward breath. ‘That you care genuinely about us, or at least about Albus. And that you have no love for Thane and his people. Especially Downing.’ 

Lisa looked away, and finally the furious defensiveness fled her face as her gaze landed on the darkness swishing by the window. In its place was something quieter and altogether more vulnerable. ‘Yeah,’ she breathed. ‘That’s about right.’ She backed off to swing onto the top bunk, perching there, shoulders slumped. ‘Don’t take it personally. This is about as dedicated as I get to the people I work with.’ 

‘That doesn’t reassure me very much,’ said Rose. The guilt gnawing in her was a curious thing - disgust at herself for doing this, regret at it having been done, but the knowledge that she _would_ do it if she had the time over again. 

‘You haven’t gone all self-righteous at me about it being _necessary_ , or _right_ , or for a _bigger good_. So. That’ll do.’ She scrubbed her face with her free hand, then slipped her wand back under the pillow. ‘Next time you want to know what I’m thinking, Rose, just ask.’ 

‘And you’ll tell me?’ 

‘Sure, let’s go with that.’ Finally Lisa looked awkward. ‘I didn’t kick off on you then because of what was going on. I felt a presence in my mind and reacted.’ 

‘I guessed.’ 

A long silence fell until Selena sighed. ‘Well, this isn’t weird at all. A spot of late-night mind-looting. Aren’t _we_ the trusting little merry bunch?’ 

Lisa actually laughed at that, a dark, wry laugh which shook her shoulders and yet, against all understanding, sounded genuine. ‘You know what? I’m actually _comforted_ by this. You guys were in danger of being a little bit too righteous for my tastes. It’s reassuring to know you _will_ get your hands dirty.’ 

‘I’m not sure _I_ _’m_ reassured by this,’ sighed Rose. 

‘Except you’d do it again,’ said Lisa, looking at her. 

She flinched. ‘Yes.’ 

Lisa nodded slowly. ‘Good. You’re right to.’ 

‘This remains weird,’ said Selena. ‘And _I_ want to get some sleep and Rose is still in our cabin when she should be off cuddling with Scorpius.’ 

‘Point made,’ said Rose. I’ll go. And let you guys sleep.’ 

She had violated Lisa’s privacy and seen dark corners of her memories, but the woman just waved a hand at her - and rolled over to get back to sleep. That was what stuck with Rose the most as she left the cabin and returned to her own. It was one thing to do these dark deeds, to choose to do something to someone else she would _never_ want done to her. That much she could justify, even if she hated it. 

But that Lisa could justify it being done to herself, even tolerate it, _forgive_ it, put a foul taste in her mouth she couldn’t quite shake. 

_What is this world doing to us._   
  
Scorpius was a sleepy shape in the bunk when she returned and slid under the blankets next to him. He made an incoherent mumbling noise, then rolled over to throw an arm around her, nuzzling the mad mess of her hair. ‘…that took a while,’ he murmured at last. 

‘Yeah,’ she breathed, and closed her eyes so her world narrowed to become just her and him. ‘But don’t worry. It was just girl stuff.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A/N: Most of the above research kind of speaks for itself. Though my own convoluted history of de Sablé, of the wizarding Templars, and incorporating it all into actual history, wasn’t easy! I think I wrote this chapter with about 6 research tabs open on my browser! Matt does a good job of separating Muggle history from the wizarding history._   
>    
> _The Biblical references in this are again, as stated, Book of Revelation._ _“And he said unto me, It is done. I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely.” - King James Bible, Revelation 21:6, or at least that’s the one Matt is referring to in figuring out the clue on the steps._   
>    
> _‘Spinks’, the wizard who survived his encounter with Matt and Scorpius at Ager Sanguinis, was actually named from one of the original considered surnames for Draco. This doesn’t have symbolism, I was just trawling for wizard surnames._


	33. Like a Stone

‘I hate trains.’ Selena almost fell over when they staggered onto the platform. ‘I’d rather bloody _hike_ wherever we’re going next. No more trains. _Please_.’ 

‘If you’re hiking, can you carry your own luggage?’ said Matt, yanking her carry-case down from the carriage with a clatter and a grunt. ‘Or let Rose pack it, or burn it, or basically make sure _I_ don’t have to lug it?’ 

Rose descended gingerly in the case’s wake, patting her backpack. ‘I’d have packed it if she’d brought it to my compartment!’ 

‘Yes, but then I’d have risked interrupting an all-important Weasley-Malfoy fumble and, frankly, that’s too much hair for one person to deal with.’ Selena waved her hands about her head to illustrate the sheer volume of hair, then looked around the plain platform, the wooden office, the rolling hills of sunlit Portugal. ‘So. This is Tomar. What a dump.’ 

‘A dump!’ Matt’s eyebrows went indignant. ‘It was the _last_ Templar town to be made! It thwarted the advance of Caliph Abu Yusuf Al-Mansur! It was the headquarters of -’ 

‘ _We know_.’ Selena kept her nose in the air. ‘It’s also a run-down little town in the middle of hilly nowhere. If we’re going to Portugal in May, can we at least have a beach?’ 

Albus, the last of the six onto the platform, lifted his hands to forestall further bickering. ‘This is where we need to be, and we’re not here to sight-see. Matt, does Tomar have a magical community?’ 

‘Not to my knowledge. On the one hand, records imply the Templar wizards had a presence here when the place was built and when the Order of Christ “took over”. On the other, records _also_ imply wizards went their separate ways over the -’ 

‘This is probably for the best,’ interrupted Scorpius. ‘No local wizards to keep an eye on us.’ 

‘But no local wizards who might have spotted Raskoph and his men,’ said Lisa. Her dark gaze swept up and down the platform, not for a moment resting on them. Selena could see her hand tucked up her sleeve, ready to grasp her wand as if an attacker was going to strike at any moment. 

‘We should camp, then,’ said Rose. ‘There are woods near the town, near the castle. I can stick up some wards so the Muggles won’t come near us, and the Council of Thorns shouldn’t be expecting us, so we can investigate freely.’ 

‘Beans for dinner again. _Great_ ,’ sighed Selena. 

‘What’s bothering me,’ said Albus, ignoring her, ‘is that we have no idea what Raskoph is after. And he’s got a few days’ head-start on us. He could have been and gone.’ 

‘Then we’ll find some trace of his passing,’ said Matt. ‘And I still have de Sablé’s papers to go through. Even if Raskoph has been and gone and we have no idea what he was after, we _do_ have avenues of investigation he doesn’t.’ 

Scorpius looked at Albus. ‘So what’s the plan, boss?’ 

Albus’ lips twisted at the address. ‘Set up a camp site and take a look at the town and the castle.’ 

‘I would think the castle’s more likely to be relevant than the town,’ said Matt. ‘The town outside of the walls is relatively modern, probably all post-16th century.’ 

‘Only to _you_ would that be modern,’ said Selena, rolling her eyes. ‘I’m happy to look for a camp site. And I’m not going with Sir Gabs-A-Lot here.’ 

Matt’s expression flickered with hurt, and Rose stepped up. ‘I’ll go with her. It’s best I set up the wards anyway.’ 

‘Right. Then Lisa, Matt, you go up to the castle, have a quick look around. Scorp and I will look at the town. Meet up back here in an hour and then to the camp to figure out our next move?’ Albus nodded. ‘Let’s get to work.’ 

Selena and Rose didn’t speak until they were out of the humble train station, picking their way across soil baked hard under the blistering sun, towards the wooded hills nearby. ‘I expected Portugal to be flatter,’ was all Selena said once the others were out of sight. 

‘It’s pretty hilly.’ 

‘Well noticed.’ 

‘Oh,’ said Rose. ‘We’re doing this again.’ 

Selena glared - then stopped herself and rubbed her temples. ‘Sorry. Been cooped up in a train too long.’ 

‘You’re allowed to be ratty, considering -’ 

‘I don’t want a free pass on being a bitch just because my life sucks. Besides. If I’m being a bitch, I’m doing it to get a reaction or I don’t _care_. I don’t _need_ the free pass.’ Silence fell, the two walking in a more companionable peace into the edges of shade as they descended into woodlands. ‘Thanks.’ 

Rose hesitated. ‘I couldn’t leave you in there.’ 

‘A part of me wishes you had. Also, saying “you can leave the man you love and become a crazy cat lady” is, like, the _worst_ argument ever. Just so you know.’ 

Songs of birds happy to be flittering about these sunlit trees filled the gap between them, a too-late warning for Selena that she’d said too much. Rose’s sigh was heavy. ‘Love.’ 

Selena exhaled slowly. ‘It’s a word. It’s a - you know, this is just going to go around in circles. I’m alive, he’s dead, and you dragged me kicking and screaming back into this world when I wanted to give up on it. Is there anything more to say?’ 

‘I don’t know,’ Rose admitted. ‘Except that I meant what I said. I still -’ She paused, and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. ‘I made it sound so minor in there, needing you to kick me out of funks. But I do. Need you, I mean.’ 

‘Careful, Weasley, we don’t want to cut ourselves on affection.’ 

But Rose gave a small, relieved smile at the comment. ‘Albus is family and Scorpius is Scorpius. And this sounds weird to say because it’s not like I have much more in common with you than Hestia and Cheryl, but you’re my _friend_ and you _get_ me like they don’t, and I appreciate and I’ve… needed that. Lots of things have helped me grow up the last year but, well, you’re one of them.’ 

‘It’s not about having something in common with you,’ said Selena. ‘It’s about not being intimidated by you. Hestia Kirke thinks you’re Merlin incarnate. Cheryl thinks you’ll never listen to her, so she never tries. I _knew_ you wouldn’t listen to me, but I didn’t care because I wanted to call you on your shit anyway, and also I reckoned you were smart enough to remember it.’ She picked a path at random, a narrow one winding into darker, thicker woods where, if they could find a clearing, it would be easier to keep their tent hidden. 

The trees were different here to Badenheim, or perhaps it was the light. Brighter and more piercing, and making the woodland into shadows with streaks of light, instead of the impenetrable canopy of greenery in Germany. Why was _light_ different in different bits of the world? It was the same sun, only a couple of weeks further into summer, and yet it was like a whole new world in its own way. 

And she owed Rose a better answer. ‘…Abena and Miranda let me act like nothing was wrong after Methuselah died.’ She could say it, she realised. Normally she’d have said “after Phlegethon” or “after Hogwarts”, and left the real issue unspoken. It was a cold sort of progress. ‘Sure, it’s what I wanted them to think, but they’ve been my friends for years. Either they couldn’t see through my masks, in which case I’m kind of worried, or they could and didn’t stop to ask, in which case I’m _really_ worried.’ 

‘What _did_ they say?’ Rose paused. ‘What did you even tell them?’ 

Selena closed her eyes. She’d tried to not think about this, and the wave of shame was almost choking. ‘That I had a fumble with him which was just fun, just distraction in a crisis, and then he died. I could see what they were thinking - that I was mad to even think about Methuselah Jones, and they’d have mocked me for it if he weren’t _dead_. I mean, even Scorpius believed my mask, so I shouldn’t complain about people believing what I wanted them to believe -’ 

‘I didn’t.’ 

She opened her eyes, fought her smile, and lost. ‘Yes, well, you never listened to me in the first place, Weasley.’ Rose laughed at that, an honest laugh which took the sting out of the conversation, but still shadows lurked in her mind, blacker than the ones in the trees around them. ‘I’m sorry for stirring things up in Ager Sanguinis. I _was_ taking chunks out of you because I felt like hell.’ 

‘No harm done,’ said Rose, voice honest. ‘Matt and I are over. Maybe I’ve not - I’m not pretending I’ve been a saint, but I’ve tried to walk the road of not being _rude_ without, well, leading him on.’ She paused. ‘Have I been giving him the wrong signals?’ 

‘Really? No. Just, perhaps, didn’t hold up a neon light so he on occasion saw what he wanted to see. I think he’s okay now.’ She pursed her lips as they reached a bridge across a dip that was almost a gorge in the woodlands, stone and intricately carved despite the weathering of the years. ‘That is one excessively ornate piece of architecture for the middle of nowhere.’ 

Rose peered at it. ‘Maybe these woods were once… I don’t know. Something to do with the castle, the monastery? And that fell apart but the bridge remained?’ 

Selena ran her fingers along the cold stone railing, feeling the intricate carving. ‘Dragon scales.’ And the walkway itself was like a dragon’s spine. ‘Well, that’s a bit excessive.’ 

‘It goes deep, too,’ said Rose, pointing into the dirt. ‘Soil must have buried part of it, or -’ 

‘Whatever - it’s a bridge. What the hell were you doing to Lisa the other night?’ Selena rolled her eyes and they pressed on. 

Rose’s nose wrinkled. ‘Al wanted me to. His head is spinning with worry -’ 

‘So he decided to break his precious morals and _tell_ you to plunder her brain -’ 

‘No!’ Her voice was firm. ‘He didn’t _ask_ me to. He doesn’t want to ask. He doesn’t want to _do_ it. But he’s getting turned upside-down, I can see it, and I made the judgement call that I’d get it done and get him the truth without him having to compromise himself.’ 

‘And now you trust Lisa.’ 

‘I trust that she’s messed up as all hell,’ said Rose. ‘But I trust that some of that mess is _from_ being captured by Thane, and I trust that she _does_ trust us. There are feelings you get in Legilimency, not just strict images and facts, and those don’t lie.’ 

There was another long, birdsong-filled gap while Selena rooted for diplomatic words. ‘Albus won’t thank you for that.’ 

Another wrinkle of the nose from Rose. ‘Probably not. It was probably wrong. An abuse of trust, an abuse of _her_. I’d be furious if anyone doubted me and so decided to read my mind while I slept.’ 

‘And yet you don’t regret it.’ 

Rose stopped, and for a moment Selena thought she’d pushed too far. Then she realised they’d reached the edges of a narrow, sunlit-clearing, hidden amongst the trees and dips of the local landscape, and Rose eventually sighed. ‘Do you think I should?’ 

Selena shrugged, watching the area, her friend’s expression, the warm sky of Portugal. ‘I think,’ she said at length, ‘that this is a good campsite.’ 

‘That’s not an answer.’ 

‘I was doing that thing where I change the topic and that says it all, Weasley, keep up.’ Selena scowled. ‘I think Albus can keep his damned principles if it means we’ve crossed a possible threat off the list. He should be grateful you took the hard decision out of his hands.’ 

‘That isn’t why I did it without his knowledge.’ Rose unslung her backpack, opened it up to pull out the impossibly-large tent case from inside her magically-enlarged bag. 

‘Why, then?’ 

It took no more than the flash of a wand for the tent to spring to life, so small from the outside that it looked like it’d only hold two people if they wanted to get close. But it meant Rose had a moment or two to steel her expression, even if Selena knew how to look through her amateurish masks by now. 

‘I wanted to keep Albus’ principles intact,’ said Rose, ‘because the more you and I erode ours, it means he’ll be there to stop us on the day we try to go _really_ too far.’ 

Selena sighed. ‘I’m here on a mission of vengeance, Rose. That’s why I started this. That’s why we’re _all_ here. I don’t _want_ him to stop me if I get the _chance_ to go “too far” on Thane.’ 

‘Maybe not.’ Rose tossed her bag inside the tent, then pulled her wand and started on the protective wands around the tent. ‘But I do. Because while I might want to join you, I don’t want you to do that to yourself.’

* * 

‘This place is crawling with Muggles,’ said Matt when he led them through the great arched doorway into the Castle of Tomar. ‘The Convento de Cristo is one of the biggest historical monuments in the country. I’m not sure how Raskoph is moving through here without being noticed.’ 

Lisa sighed. ‘Like I said. He’ll use charms and wards -’ 

‘But he needs to know _where_ to look. He can’t just wander through the castle, breaking down doors and cracking open tombs.’ 

‘Did your first look-around find anything?’ said Albus. 

‘That it’s crawling with Muggles, that it’s huge, and that we have no idea where Raskoph might have searched,’ said Matt. ‘But no, we nosed around for a half hour and there was nothing obvious.’ 

‘He could have been and gone,’ said Rose. 

‘And miss out on _all_ of this?’ Scorpius sounded mocking as he swept a hand around the sunlit courtyard of the castle. ‘Crumbling walls? A really old church? That creepy-ass bridge up from the woods? I don’t know who made that bridge, but I bet they _really_ liked dragons.’ 

‘Those walls are actually some of the first in Portugal to feature round towers in the outer walls,’ said Matt, pointing to the nearest on his left. ‘The Templars learnt of the value of this in France, because the round towers are more resistant to attack than square -’ 

‘Stop nerding, Doyle, _please_ ,’ sighed Scorpius. ‘If you like the walls so much, then go take a look at them while _we_ work.’ 

‘Yes. Work. You’re good at that, Malfoy; tell me, how many leads have you showed up lately?’ 

Scorpius opened his mouth for a retort, but it was Rose who spoke first, glaring at him. ‘Scorp, this isn’t helping. Matt’s done lots of reading and research and we wouldn’t have a clue what to look for here if it weren’t for him.’ 

Matt tried to suppress the surge of satisfaction at not just being backed up, but at being backed up by Rose. It wasn’t just so he didn’t look smug. He didn’t want to reflect too long and too hard on his ex girlfriend siding with him against her boyfriend. 

_It_ _’s just because you’re right. Nothing more._ Being right wasn’t as comforting as it usually was. 

He ploughed on. ‘I’ve done _some_ reading on the place, and of de Sablé’s notes. He talks a lot about keeping matters of importance in the tombs of the fallen Templar wizards; they’re usually secure places because the great wizards tend to have all manner of magical protections around their tombs.’ 

‘That sounds promising,’ said Albus. ‘I’m assuming this place _has_ tombs.’ 

‘Um. Sure. Somewhere.I can find it in the castle somewhere. Even if we have to Confound some Muggle tour guides and go places we’re not supposed to.’ 

‘That’s a good start. In case nothing comes of that, Rose, how about you find some high places and see about detecting some magical traces in the area?’ 

‘I’ll go with her,’ Scorpius volunteered at Albus’ suggestion, and while Matt’s gut twisted the way it always did when he thought of the two of them together, he knew this would be for the best if Scorpius was being crabby. He didn’t want him complaining in his ear all the way through investigating underground. 

‘As will I. Extra pair of eyes. Lisa, Selena, you two go with Matt?’ 

‘Oh,’ said Selena. ‘Yay. _More_ underground.’ 

Matt’s expression pinched, but he nodded to Albus and waved a hand at his new companions. ‘Let’s try the convent first, then the keep. The religious centre is more likely to have a burial site somewhere underground.’ 

He didn’t wait before turning on his heel and walking across the dusty courtyard towards the convent, where the biggest surge of crowds of Muggles were. This was easily going to be their most peculiar investigation yet, dodging not Dementors but the non-magical locals, trying to guess where the enemy was. Or had been. 

‘Do you know what you’re looking for?’ said Selena when she fell into step next to him, Lisa taking up the rear. He was reassured by Lisa’s presence, at least; if they ran into trouble, having her at his side sounded preferable even to having Albus. 

But there was an edge to Selena’s voice and he couldn’t help but snap. ‘I just said, didn’t I? What is this, kick Doyle day?’ 

‘I thought that was every day -’ 

He rounded on her with enough speed to kick up the dusty ground around them. ‘I’m the reason we found where the Chalice was kept in the catacombs. I’m the reason we knew to go to Ager Sanguinis. I’m the reason we found de Sablé’s notes in that back room. When do I get as much bloody acclaim as Scorpius for his parlour tricks or _you_ for doing naff all? When I also survive Hogwarts?’ 

Silence met his words, the dust rising around Selena to diffuse the sunlight and make it give them both hazy halos he knew they didn’t deserve. For a moment she looked stunned, then hurt, then, he thought, even sympathetic - but he wasn’t sure which one was going to win. 

Then Lisa spoke. ‘This is not the time for this.’ 

‘No. It’s not,’ Matt agreed. ‘It’s the time for me to think and for us to hunt. Not for people to take chunks out of me.’ 

‘No, it’s time for us to stick together and _think_ together,’ said Lisa, and both Matt and Selena turned to look at her with some bewilderment. It was the most warm she’d sounded towards them yet. ‘We’re here to be your eyes as well. Tell us what to look for. Take us through here.’ 

Selena’s lips twitched. ‘When did you suddenly become a team player?’ 

‘I’ve worked in groups a lot. Just until now I’ve been trusting you five to know how to work together. Except I think you’ve been getting cabin fever.’ 

Matt exhaled. ‘You’re right. Okay. Let’s focus. Look for the Celtic knot-work like we saw in Paris and in Ager Sanguinis. I don’t know if this place has anything to do with the Chalice, but it’s worth looking for. Keep discreet detection spells up, see if you can find the _slightest_ flicker of anything magical.’ 

‘Detection spells are imperfect,’ Lisa reminded him. 

‘But it’s a start. Other than that, we’re looking for tombs, we’re looking for the name Reynald de Sablé.’ Matt nodded. ‘So let’s get it done.’ 

Selena looked, again, like she was half-thinking about apologising - but then he turned and carried on to the convent, and the moment was lost. It was better that way, he thought. He didn’t want to be subject to her fickle moods. He wanted _answers_. The others were, he suspected, after Raskoph and the Chalice more than anything else, and while he shared their priorities he knew he cared likely more than they did about the nature of the puzzle. 

What did the Templar wizards do here? What was so special about this place? Had something mysterious turned back Caliph Al-Mansur’s attack, or had it just been the strength of arms of the Templar knights? They were walking through shrouded history on this quest, and Matt for one cared about the clues on the journey as much as the end result. 

The clues in Convento de Cristo, however, were few and far between. Swishes of the wand got them past Muggle ticket vendors and into the building. They got them through the locked doors and blocked passages without obstacle or notice. But despite the astonishing masonry and architecture, despite that if he didn’t have work to do, Matt would have happily spent an afternoon nosing about the building, within two hours they came away with nothing but frustration. 

Selena, at least, held her tongue in their failure of a hunt. He didn’t think he’d have tolerated yet more sarcastic comments from her, and he was glad of Lisa’s continued deadpan expression. It wasn’t Albus or Rose’s earnest but pointless supportiveness, nor was it anything caustic like he’d have got from Scorpius. They’d hunted. They would continue to hunt. And she was there to work. 

‘The keep,’ Matt sighed when they emerged back into the bright sunlight of the courtyard. ‘And I hope this isn’t a waste of time.’ 

Selena tied back her long hair as a breeze tugged at it and the dust, sighed, but nodded. ‘Lead on, then.’ She sounded tired, subdued, even borderline disapproving, but she wasn’t being sarcastic. He’d take it. 

The keep was a quieter building, further away from the bustling Muggle crowds, and clad in denser stone. Ten minutes inside was enough to deny the sun its warmth, and made Matt glad for the light jacket which hid the sword and his wand but had him suffering in the sunlight. But this time, fortune favoured them more quickly. 

It was Selena who swished her wand down one of the corridors, mumbling a detection spell, and so it was she who came to a halt so suddenly that Lisa almost walked into the back of her. ‘Hold up. I’m getting something.’ 

Matt stopped and turned back. The passageway was gloomy, adorned on either side with tapestries depicting Templar greatness, but there were still Muggles occasionally passing, bustling to and fro at either end of the corridor. ‘Something?’ 

Selena nodded at one of the sturdy oak doors along the wall that looked thoroughly locked and off-limits. ‘Just a quick spark. Something magic. What do you want from me, I’m not an analyst of this stuff. But it came that way.’ 

He put his hand in his pocket for his wand. ‘Okay. I’ll do a quick distraction spell; Lisa, if you can crack the lock and… er, maybe you should go first.’ 

The stairway down was shrouded in shadow, but Lisa still slipped through the door and into the darkness. All Matt and Selena could do was exchange glances and follow, Matt taking a quick look to confirm the Muggles hadn’t heard. The door swung shut behind them to cast them into absolute blackness, and he tried to not curse at this, or jump when Selena, ahead of him, took his arm. He suspected Lisa was leading her, in turn, and so they continued as a careful procession, shuffling down shrouded stairs and trying to not slip and break their necks. 

It went on a long way, and in the end all they found was an underground room loaded with modern crates and boxes, storage of display pieces which would be brought up by the Muggles when they wanted to change the presentation of the keep. That, and the section of the far wall where sheer stone had slid open to show a further corridor. 

‘So that was once a secret door,’ murmured Selena. ‘The magic’s coming from that way.’ 

Lisa lifted her wand. ‘Watch my back, and stay silent,’ she said. 

Her advance was a glide as smooth and silent as silk on the stone, and Matt felt lurching and undignified as he tried to ape her movements when he followed. The new corridor was different, the stonework older and more intricately carved, and at the far end was a doorway through which flickered firelight. 

Then he heard the whispers, too faint to make out, but definitely there and probably human. 

_What is my life coming to,_ he wondered _, when I have to say **probably** human and not mean House Elves or something?_   
  
‘Cover me,’ Lisa breathed. ‘I’ll take a look.’ 

She edged down the corridor and Matt grimaced but hunkered down, his wand braced before him, ready with supporting fire so long as she stayed in his line of sight. She put her back to the wall and moved like a cat, not a whiff of magic about her and yet still so light-footed he could only admire her stealth. She stuck to the shadows and all but slithered through the darkness to the door. 

‘Ever feel like an amateur?’ Selena whispered. 

‘Around you lot?’ His frown deepened. ‘Always.’ 

She shifted her weight. ‘I just meant -’ 

‘I know you meant her.’ Matt didn’t take his eyes off Lisa as she reached the end of the corridor, her head just nudging against the doorway to peer through. ‘But one of these days you might let me forget that I haven’t been with you since the beginning.’ 

‘That’s not what this is about. It’s just Scorpius being a twerp.’ 

He considered this a moment. ‘Then what’s your excuse?’ 

Before she could answer, Lisa was beside them again. ‘You two,’ she muttered, ‘are too loud.’ She glanced over her shoulder. ‘There’s four of them. Wizards. Raskoph’s one. There are tombs in there and a central sarcophagus, some sort of ritual.’ 

Selena shivered. ‘Rituals around a site of death? That sounds familiar.’ 

‘You think they’re going to drop Eridanos on Tomar?’ asked Matt. 

Lisa shrugged. ‘I don’t know. We should get the others -’ 

‘No.’ Selena’s expression set. ‘There might not be time. We _can_ _’t_ let them, we _can_ _’t_ risk it.’ 

‘They outnumber us _and_ have you two, at least, out-gunned.’ 

Matt hefted his wand. ‘Sounds like a good time for an ambush.’ 

Lisa sighed, but then she nodded and gestured for them to follow. Matt did his best to do as she did, put his feet where hers went, follow the same shadows and be just as light on his feet. He knew he was like a lumbering beast in comparison, though, and even though his grip on his wand tightened, his free hand by instinct came to the hilt of the sword, nestled with its hidden size in his jacket. 

_It didn_ _’t do you much good at Ager Sanguinis. You needed saving by Scorpius._ Maybe that was why Scorpius held such disgust for him. Perhaps he’d proved he couldn’t keep up when it mattered. 

_Not this time._   
  
Though he didn’t know what would make this time different other than his determination, and Matt knew it took more than determination to win a fight. 

_It helps_. 

Lisa gestured for him to take a look through the doorway for himself, and he flattened himself against the wall, peering ahead. The chamber looked like any other burial chamber he’d seen of the Templars, from his experience and his reading, though there was no sign of the markings and etchings that had suggested the presence of the Chalice in the past. But it remained ornate, cast in golden light and flickering shadow of the flaming sconces along the walls, the walls lined with half-a-dozen sarcophagi similar to de Sablé’s in Paris. 

In the centre was one more, the largest and most distinctive, the stone slab above it carved with an ornate dragon’s head Matt found familiar but couldn’t place. It was around this sarcophagus that the four figures stood, wearing Muggle clothing and wands in their hand, but he recognised Raskoph. Markings had been drawn in chalk on the ground, though they meant nothing to him. He’d not studied the Phlegethon or Eridanos rituals. 

His expression tightened and he looked at Selena, then Lisa, whose gaze was questioning. He just nodded. 

Then she was moving. 

Her steps were silent and her spells were silent as she burst into the chamber, and so the initial flurry of light and burst of power was eerie - bright light with no sound. He didn’t try the added difficulty of casting wordlessly, and neither did Selena, so when they backed her up, it was like he could hear again after being deaf. 

Then they were fighting, and his focus narrowed. No more distractions of the contrast of sight and sound, or worrying about what the ritual was. Just him and his wand, and the enemies. 

_Stupefy. Protego. Get - the hell - down._

One wizard went down to Lisa’s initial onslaught - another was quick enough to parry Matt’s blast, but then Selena was beside him and, as the Thorns wizard’s shield died, _her_ spell thudded into his chest. He felt a burst of satisfaction at the teamwork. Then Raskoph and the other had shield spells up, the air was alive with bright, crackling magic - 

It _was_ bright, Matt realised as he ducked back behind the doorway at the retaliation, spells missing his nose by inches. More bright than just Stuns and slashing curses and shields should be, and then he could smell it, the _fizzing_ that filled the air he recognised as the unleashing of powerful magic. 

‘You’re supposed to be _dead_!’ That was Raskoph, who’d moved to take cover behind the sarcophagus. 

There was a silence from the three of them as they exchanged glances, then Selena peered around Matt. ‘Sorry to disappoint!’ She shrugged and muttered, ‘What? Scorpius isn’t here, someone had to say it.’ 

Lisa rolled her eyes, but Matt didn’t react. ‘Something’s wrong. Something’s seriously wrong.’ He could hear the hushed, urgent voices of Raskoph and his remaining wizard, and though he couldn’t hear the words, he could hear the tone. This was concern, and not concern at being jumped by people they could probably out-class in a fight. 

‘We’ve got them pinned in,’ said Lisa, and threw a Stun through the doorway to make sure they kept their heads down. ‘We’ve disrupted their ritual -’ 

‘Oh, God.’ Realisation slammed into Matt as the fizzing presence of magic began to fade, and its absence was not reassuring. Magic couldn’t just disappear. It had to go somewhere. ‘What the _hell_ was that ritual?’

* * 

‘I miss my broom,’ said Scorpius, slouching against the walls. From up there they could see not just the Convent behind them, but the tumbling hills of Portugal and the rest of the town of Tomar, stretching out before them in all its sunlit glory. They were warm, they were comfortable, they had nothing to do. 

It made Rose a mixture of bored and tense. 

‘I miss _clues_ ,’ she muttered. 

Albus shrugged, and hauled himself up to sit on the wall before the long drop on the far side in a way which would have given his mother a fit. ‘The others will be out of the keep soon enough, and we can hunt together if they’ve not found anything.’ 

‘They won’t find anything,’ sighed Scorpius. ‘Nothing’s _here_. I bet Raskoph’s been and -’ 

‘I don’t need you being negative, Scorp.’ Albus tilted his face to the sun. ‘We’re in this together. Trust everyone.’ 

_Trust_. The word thudded into Rose’s gut and had her shifting her weight. She had to, at some point, come clean to Albus about the Legilimency. It was only fair, considering he’d implied he wanted her to do it. Not that she blamed him. She suspected, deep down, he’d rather it didn’t happen. But it had, and he was the one with questions. He deserved answers. 

In truth, she’d have preferred to do this without Scorpius. She feared Albus’ anger, however right he would be to be furious with her. But she didn’t know if Scorpius was going to defend her in front of Albus, which might make it all worse. 

And she didn’t know if he’d condemn her, too. Still, they had waited out here a few hours with nothing, and if she couldn’t justify hiding it from Albus then she couldn’t justify hiding it from Scorpius, either. They’d both - they’d _all_ \- been hurt too much by lies. Even the little ones. And this wasn’t little. 

‘There’s something I should say.’ Then came the noise. 

It was like stone scraping on stone and mixed up with a scream, and it came from the woodlands the way they’d come. It rumbled across the trees, across the hills, and Rose felt the wall itself shake. Albus jumped to his feet, and even Scorpius was getting up, everyone’s eyes wide. 

‘What was that.’ Albus’ voice was flat. 

Rose looked over her shoulder and down to the courtyard, and her eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t know. But the Muggles don’t have a bloody clue, either.’ They were stumbling through doors, coming out into the open, milling together with obvious confusion. Then there was another such sound, this one louder, a _roar_ of stone, and the confusion shifted to fear. 

‘Guys…’ Scorpius was standing on the wall, staring into the woodlands. ‘There’s something out there.’ 

Albus turned. ‘Something?’ 

Then a shape shot up, up into the sky, high enough to block the sun from view for just a heartbeat, and Rose had the impression of flapping wings to go with that scraping roar. 

‘Yeah,’ said Scorpius, voice empty. ‘That’s what I thought it was. There’s a giant stone dragon flying up there.’


	34. Wing It

‘When you say “giant stone dragon”,’ said Rose, voice faint, ‘do you mean it’s a stone dragon that’s enormous by draconic proportions, or -’ 

‘It’s a _flying stone dragon_ , Rose, what do you want from me?’ Scorpius barked, hopping off the wall. 

Albus frowned at the draconic horizon. ‘Oh, God, I think it’s that dragon bridge we crossed earlier.’ 

‘Transfiguration,’ said Rose. ‘Which means magic, which means witches and wizards. I’d guess… eight of them, equipped with broomsticks.’ 

Scorpius looked at her, astonished. ‘What, so they can elevate themselves while transfiguring the bridge to fly - how can you _calculate_ that?’ 

‘Because there are eight people on broomsticks over there.’ 

Scorpius’ head whipped around to see the darkened dots rising after the dragon from the woodlands, and there were indeed eight of them. They were some distance away, but he could already see the frantic flight patterns, hear the edges of shouting. They didn’t seem like they had this under control. 

Though who _would_ have a flying stone dragon under control? 

‘The Council of Thorns.’ Albus’ lips cut a thin line through his determined face. Behind them, the confused murmuring of Muggles was turning into raised, worried voices as confusion and fear spread. 

‘This has to be a distraction,’ said Rose. ‘They can’t have just come here to transfigure some random bridge.’ 

‘Cheap plan.’ Scorpius took a step back. ‘Except it’s coming this way and _I_ , for one, am very distracted.’ 

‘We’ve got to take a closer look, take them down, and make sure that - that _thing_ doesn’t hurt anyone,’ said Albus, straightening. ‘Rose, give me your bag.’ 

‘What’re we going to do?’ said Scorpius as she passed the bag over. ‘ _Book_ it to death?’ 

Albus gave him a look. ‘You’re not the only one who packed his broom, Scorp. Though you _are_ the only one who broke his broom.’ And he pulled out his own Firestorm, the stout, professional-quality broom which had been put to shame only by Scorpius’ own, late Starfall-model. ‘Okay, you two go find the others, and -’ 

‘And what? Stand on the ground and flap our hands? No way. I’m going with you.’ Scorpius squared his shoulders. 

‘You’re not -’ 

‘ _You_ _’re_ not flying up there against eight others on your own. You’ll need a gunner. I don’t have flight goggles, but I’ll manage. We fly, we shoot, we steal another broom. Divide and conquer.’ 

Despite himself, Albus grinned as he swung his leg over his broom. ‘That’s not what divide and conquer means, mate. But, okay.’ 

Rose arched an eyebrow. ‘So what do _I_ do?’ 

Scorpius shrugged. ‘Go find the others, then stand on the ground with _them_ and flap your hands.’ 

‘Scorpius -’ 

‘We can’t fit three on a broom, so stay down here and be a genius.’ Scorpius hopped behind Albus onto the hovering Firestorm. 

‘ _Scorp_!’ 

‘He means come up with a plan,’ said Albus helpfully. ‘One that’s better than, “let’s fly at the stone dragon”.’ 

Scorpius lifted his gaze. ‘Which is coming this way. Surrounded by people on brooms.’ And the first scream from down in the courtyard below came as the Muggles realised they should be afraid. ‘New plan, Rose - get those people to shelter.’ 

‘ _Great_!’ she snapped, but the rest of her words were lost in the wind as Albus kicked the Firestorm to life and the two of them rocketed into the sky. 

It wasn’t the usual surge of speed, because brooms weren’t designed to carry two, especially when one of those people was of Albus’ size and weight. But where Scorpius knew his skill in the air was in acrobatics and agility, Albus specialised in being an unstoppable juggernaut, and that meant he knew how to get the best acceleration out of his Firestorm. 

From this high it was much easier to see what was going on. Trees had been knocked down and askew in the woodlands below where once had, indeed, sat that dragon-styled bridge. It wasn’t there any more, because it had taken winged form - the size of a house, and in every way the perfect replica of what Scorpius remembered from his one trip to a dragon breeding colony when he’d been a kid. Expansive stone wings sent gusts of wind with every flap and made the monstrosity fly faster and higher despite its weight, and the great carved head - its maw tall enough for even Albus to stand in - swept to and fro, as if searching. 

The wizards on brooms swarmed around it like flies, and from the snippets of shouting, seemed in disarray. ‘It’s out of control!’ Scorpius shouted to Albus. 

Indeed, the stone dragon had risen high, flapped in a circle, and was now making for the Castle of Tomar. Albus squinted ahead. ‘Who transfigures something and then loses control?’ 

‘Who the hell transfigures a _stone dragon bridge_?’ 

‘An international cabal of mad dark wizards?’ Albus shrugged. ‘Hopefully it’ll keep them distracted. I’m going to try to come in fast and sudden. I want you to undo the transfiguration of its wing.’ 

Scorpius hesitated, then tightened his grip on Albus’ shoulder as his friend didn’t wait for a response, just put on a fresh burst of speed to have them hurtling even quicker across the bright blue sky. ‘You should have brought Rose for this.’ 

But it was too late to argue, now. Albus had gone high to put the sun to their back, so if any of the Council wizards were paying attention to anything other than their rampaging stone dragon, the two men on one broom wouldn’t be easily spotted. This put them above the dragon and so they fell like a stone, a dead drop which would have them whipping past their enemies hard and fast. Albus didn’t need to explain the tactic to Scorpius. This would just be a fly-by, quick and sudden and letting him get off a good dose of magic at the dragon. Any strikes against the Council wizards would be a bonus. 

They fell. The wind rushed past Scorpius’ ears and he didn’t hesitate to clamp one arm in an iron grip around Albus. Normally he was a fan of such aerial acrobatics, but normally he was in _control_ of them, and the notion of falling with his fate in someone else’s hands meant he had to fight the urge to shut his eyes. He couldn’t afford to. There was work to do. 

The huge shape of the dragon. Darting this way and that to avoid its form and the other fliers. A wing, reaching upward, and he gritted his teeth, summoned every recollection from transfiguration lessons, and stabbed his wand in its direction. 

He wouldn’t have sworn blind he’d said the incantation correctly, and even if he did, he wouldn’t have sworn blind that he was good enough to undo this sort of massive transfiguration. But he knew enough to know that it wasn’t his lack of expertise which saw his spell hit the stone only for the magic to ripple across the surface, dissipating harmlessly. 

Because he’d seen this before. 

‘Oh, _shit_ , Al,’ Scorpius hissed as Albus yanked the broom up from its dead drop. Above them came shouts from the wizards, who had _not_ been so distracted as to miss their fly-by. So now they’d failed to stop the stone dragon _and_ had the attention of eight enemy fliers. ‘It’s not been transfigured. It’s a _goddamn golem._ ’

* * 

_What the hell is that roar._ Matt looked upward, but there was still magic in the air, and it wasn’t time to ask such questions. ‘Oh, no you don’t.’ He rose to his feet as Raskoph and his compatriot abandoned their cover and bolted for the far end of the chamber, where further passageways wound through the tombs. He lashed out with a Stun, but was unsurprised when a Shield spell rippled through the air to block it. 

Lisa stepped into the open, expression creased in determination, and let loose three spells in quick succession with no regard for her own protection. She had accurately gauged that Raskoph would be more interested in retreating than retaliating, and as the colonel’s ally staggered, it looked like a full offensive would pay off. 

Until Raskoph directed his wand at the masonry above and yanked his compatriot back by the scruff of the neck before stone and dust fell, the brickwork collapsing. Lisa’s spell zeroed in on them - but hit a falling brick, and then the entire passageway came crashing down, blocking the way, and Raskoph and the other wizard were gone in a dust cloud. 

Selena stepped out, coughing vigorously, one hand blocking her face, the other pointing the wand outward. ‘So either they’re really dumb or there’s another way out.’ 

‘I’m going to bank on the former,’ said Lisa, scowling. ‘So much for staying dead.’ 

‘Never mind that.’ Matt stalked into the tomb, gaze sweeping across the chamber, at the now scuffled markings on the floor. ‘What the hell was that ritual?’ 

Selena stepped up beside him. ‘It’s _not_ Eridanos,’ she said, voice tight. ‘Unless the Eridanos ritual is enormously different to the Phlegethon one, and the Phlegethon ritual wasn’t intrinsic to the illness - it was just a Mesoamerican amplification ritual, to take the germ of a spell and project it across a wide area. This doesn’t look remotely like that.’ 

Matt blinked at her - then remembered how she’d worked closely with Methuselah Jones, and shut his mouth. 

‘We could study it. Or we could go straight to the source.’ Lisa turned on the Council wizard she’d dropped and stalked over. He was Stunned, and she kicked his wand from his hand before planting a boot on his shoulder. ‘ _Ennervate_.’ 

The wizard coughed, dust lodged in his throat, before beady eyes locked on Lisa. ‘ _You_. You’re supposed to be -’ 

Then her boot moved to his throat. ‘Dead, yes, I know,’ said Lisa. ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’ 

Selena cocked her head. ‘You know, they talk better when you don’t stomp on their necks.’ 

‘I’m not stomping. I’m giving him a chance to think _very carefully_ about what he’s going to say when I move my foot. What was this ritual?’ 

She waited a heartbeat, gaze locked on the wizard, and Matt took advantage of the moment to pad over to the central tomb. It was a sarcophagus not dissimilar to the one in Paris, though it had no name upon it, and the intricate markings in stone across the main plinth looked like some sort of semi-permanent protection magics bound into the masonry. Either they had fallen into disuse, or the Council had undone them before starting here. But once he was close, he could see the lid had been pushed a little to the side, and he reached out for it. 

Lisa moved her boot, and the Council wizard coughed again. ‘…something you’ll regret interrupting. Because now a _lot_ of people are going to die, and it’ll be your own fault.’ 

Selena looked down at him. ‘Eridanos?’ 

Lisa stuck her wand in the man’s face. ‘Less posturing. More answers. You might have been briefed you were dealing with schoolkids. I’m _not_ a schookid.’ 

The wizard went cross-eyed, gaze flickering from the tip of her wand to her eyes, and he seemed to see something there that made him falter. ‘In this tomb was the control stone for a Templar guardian of the city. A golem - a dragon golem. We were awakening it so we could take control of it. But you’ve just _interrupted_ that, so now there’s an uncontrolled golem flying up there.’ 

Matt whirled around, forgetting the sarcophagus. ‘A dragon golem - the guardian of - oh, _bloody hell_.’ Pieces fell into place, a mixture of historical questions answered and horrible prospects in the future looming ahead. ‘That’s what Raskoph came here for?’ 

‘Yeah, funnily enough we thought it was going to be a useful powerful weapon.’ The wizard grimaced. ‘Now it’s unleashed and is probably going to try to kill everyone.’ 

‘I can stop this!’ Matt turned to Selena, grabbing her by the shoulder. ‘I can stop that thing.’ 

She raised an eyebrow, though her eyes were wide and worried under the cynicism. ‘What, with the magic sword?’ 

‘No, though that’ll help. You can - you two stay here, find out what this control stone is, get this ritual out of him, _finish_ it if you can. But if you can’t, I think I know what to do.’ 

Then he turned and bolted for the stairs, ignoring the shout behind him from Selena of, ‘Get eaten by a golem dragon?’

* * 

‘New plan!’ shouted Albus, and swerved upward to slam into the Council wizard bearing down on them. ‘Take these guys out!’ 

Scorpius clung on tight, but lashed out with his wand to Stun the wizard they tackled, sending him spinning to the ground. He couldn’t stop himself from taking that extra half-second for a levitation charm, even though they weren’t too high up. He didn’t want _two_ long drops on his conscience. 

‘ _Then_ what?’ he hollered in Albus’ ear. 

‘Then I was thinking you’d have one of your crazy schemes!’ 

‘ _Great_ leadership there, mate!’ 

‘I’m using the resources I’ve got!’ 

Scorpius looked around. One Council wizard down, one golem dragon in the sky, and seven wizards now with split attention. ‘Get us close to another. I want his broom.’ 

Albus glanced over his shoulder and gave a flash of a grin. ‘That’s your crazy scheme?’ 

‘My crazy schemes will work best if I’m not hugging yo- _Protego_!’ At the last second he spotted a flash of light coming from the right, and his shield burst from his wand just in time to block the spell aimed for them both. ‘That bugger. Get _that_ one.’ 

‘On it.’ 

There was only one advantage, Scorpius reflected, on it being just them versus seven wizards and a dragon: target-rich environment. The wizard who’d sent a spell at them hadn’t expected Albus to then hurtle _at_ him - most wizards didn’t expect fights to turn physical, even on brooms. But Scorpius knew what Albus was doing, because he’d seen his tackles happen in enough Quidditch games over the years. 

Move, or Al Potter would _make_ you move. 

The wizard hesitated, which was the worst thing he could have done. A quick swerve would have him out of the way; a quick spell would force Albus and Scorpius to dodge or block. The hesitation meant that when he did yank his broom to the side, it was a narrow miss. 

‘Don’t let me fall,’ Scorpius breathed in Albus’ air - then he jumped. While he could protect Albus from his back, they were also slow and cumbersome, and while he didn’t rate their chances against Council wizards in a straight wand fight, especially when outnumbered, he _did_ rate their chances in out-flying _anyone_. 

But to fly, he needed a broom. 

Air rushed around him, and for a moment his heart lunged into his throat, not just at how damned _high_ he was. That memory from Ager Sanguinis, the one he’d tried to not think about, came racing back to him. Flailing hands and legs, bubbling fear, blackness surging up to meet him… 

Except he’d judged it properly, and landed on the Council wizard’s broom. His legs wrapped around the handle, his free arm wrapped around the pilot’s shoulder, and he shoved his wand in his kidneys. ‘A Silver Arrow? _Really_? My _grandfather_ used to fly these, and they’re _not_ cool and vintage.’ 

But the Council wizard didn’t get a chance to defend his choice of broom, because then he was catapulted into thin air and sent rocking to the ground under the gentle care of a levitation charm. 

Six Council wizards. Two of them. The odds were improving. 

Scorpius wrestled his broom under control, dragging the nose up. It was not a cutting-edge model, but this was promising, in its way. It suggested the Council were using civilian brooms, casual brooms for casual use, rather than top-end performance models. Which suggested that these _weren_ _’t_ expert fliers. 

Looking up, he could see Albus had barely waited to make sure he was secure before making his next move. He’d barged into another Council wizard, and though this one was still aloft, they were furiously exchanging blasts of wand-fire. Everything had happened so quickly that the Council had not all turned on the sudden broom-riding interlopers, and Scorpius knew they had to take advantage of the confusion to drop as many of them as they could. He raised his wand. 

Then there was another low, booming _roar_ , that scraping of stone on stone, and he realised just how close to the castle the dragon golem had got. The Council wizards had been trying to throw spells at it, trying to deflect it, but it had risen to the air and gone straight for the nearest target. 

Somewhere in Scorpius’ mind, he’d wondered if a golem dragon could breathe fire. He’d gone on to wonder two things: there was no way of knowing, and there was nothing he could do about it. At last he had an answer, and the result was mixed. 

When the dragon came bearing down on the walls of the Castle of Tomar, its great maw opening, it did _not_ breathe fire. But even from here he could feel the buffeting of the gust of wind, a high-powered burst of force which cracked masonry and sent loose stone flying. The air rippled before the dragon’s mouth, and Scorpius swore as he realised this wasn’t just a powerful torrent of air being burst from the golem, but a wave of magical force, too. 

Which shouldn’t have surprised him, as it was a magical flying rock dragon, but it made the day _worse_. 

And then he heard the screaming from the castle grounds. 

Scorpius yanked his broom up, just as Albus flew into the wizard he’d been fighting with an impact of booted foot and magical Stun. Five council wizards. Two of them. One golem dragon. 

‘I’ve got my crazy plan!’ he shouted as he shot past. ‘You handle the five of them! I’ll handle the dragon!’ 

‘Oh,’ said Albus, whirling around to look up where the dragon and the rest of the Council wizards were - because even if two fliers were in the air, taking them on, _they_ were clearly not happy about the golem dragon. ‘Piece of cake.’

* * 

The dragon’s breath hit the courtyard, and chaos reigned. 

_Goodbye, Statue of Secrecy_ , Rose thought as she sprinted across the open space towards the thronging of Muggles in the shadow of the walls. They’d run for cover when they’d realised that, no, their eyes weren’t deceiving themselves, there _was_ something flying above them. Now masonry was cracking, chunks of rubble were flying through the air, and they might not live long enough to regret this choice. 

‘ _Protego_!’ she yelled, wand snapping out before them, and the magical barrier came shimmering up only about a metre above the half-dozen Muggles’ heads, sending masonry bouncing and skittering off to hit the ground around them harmlessly. They looked around, gaping, and she waved a hand. ‘This way! Run!’ 

They might not have spoken English but the message was clear, and soon they were bolting towards the gates away from the castle as the shadow of the golem-dragon fell above. 

‘Right. So. Obliviate about… a thousand people. Surely that’s happened before,’ muttered Rose, head whipping around. The dragon was still swinging overhead, and there were still people in the courtyard, even though they fled for the gates. It was making for the tall shape of the convent, and she could see its huge maw opening yet again. 

If it brought the building down, there was no way she could shield the fifty or so people below from falling rubble. 

_So think laterally._   
  
There was something inherently wrong about running _towards_ where a golem-dragon was about to unleash its strength, but she did. Already her wand was before her, already she was summoning the spells and energy to mind and body, running through it over and over to make sure she got just right, to make sure it was as strong as it could be. Only seconds before the dragon got close did she let the magic spring from her wand, across the distance, and into the courtyard-facing wall of the Convento de Cristo. 

_Shield to repel all magical and physical force over square twenty metres? Too much energy without ritual. Spell to reinforce the walls of an entire building? Too much energy without ritual._   
  
_Can_ _’t block force. Has to go somewhere. Deflect it - one side of building intact. Other side of building, destroyed._   
  
Her inner intellectual monologue had taken on a cadence not too dissimilar to Methuselah Jones’. Now she could understand why he’d talked like that. When you had huge and complicated notions to work through in short seconds, extraneous words had to go. 

The wall facing the courtyard crackled with the energy from her wand just as the dragon’s burst of magical force erupted from its mouth. It hit the building dead-on, and she froze at the impact, poised out in the open, unable to act in the heartbeat where she waited to see if she’d succeeded or not. She couldn’t block a blast like that outright, but she _could_ deflect it somewhere else. Muggles fled for the gate, screaming at the dragon’s latest blast, but the building above them remained tall, intact. Just as the other side of the tower explodedwhen all of the force of the impact was shunted at it in one go. Masonry flew wildly, rained down upon the ground, but there was nobody underneath it, nobody to be hit by the debris. 

Rose almost collapsed from relief and the ebbing fatigue that thudded through her. ‘How’s that for the _second-_ best student of the year?’ she muttered to herself. 

‘Hey! No need to be so _stony-faced!_ ’ 

The shout came from above, and Rose didn’t need to look up to see who had spoken, or to even tell what was going on. But she did anyway, just as Scorpius, on his own atop a broom, came hurtling down from the sky to swerve in front of the golem-dragon’s face. He flashed his wand out, a sparkling array of pointless lights bursting in the air between them - but then as he dragged the handle of his broom back up, it looked like it had got the monstrosity’s attention. 

‘Well!’ she heard Scorpius yell at the golem-dragon as he swerved on a course away from the tower, away from the screaming and fleeing Muggles. ‘This is off to a _rocky start_!’ 

_I_ _’m going to kill him._   
  
Footsteps thudded across the courtyard behind her, and she turned, wand raised - and stopped as Matt skidded to a halt. ‘Woah! Hold fire!’ 

She slumped. ‘Where are the others?’ 

‘We found - long story, but Raskoph’s here, with others. They were trying to do a ritual to control… er… that.’ Matt looked up. ‘Looks like we botched it so now it’s on a rampage.’ 

Rose lifted her gaze and wrinkled her nose. She wasn’t sure if she preferred a golem-dragon on a rampage, or a golem-dragon under the Council of Thorns’ control. ‘Raskoph?’ 

‘He’s on the ground. Selena and Lisa are going to try to re-do that ritual - it’s some old Templar guardian. See, I think it’s why Caliph al-Mansur _lost_ , I think the Templars had a -’ 

‘ _Now is not the time_ , Matt!’ 

The golem-dragon gave another roar overhead, and Rose spun to see its breath hit an abandoned patch of wall, and to see the tiny shape of Scorpius swerve away from exploding masonry. 

‘Sorry!’ she heard him yell. ‘Did I aggravateyou? I mean, _aggregate_ you?’ 

Matt goggled. ‘Did he just -’ 

‘Pun? Yes. He’s getting it away from the Muggles, at least - what’re you doing up here if the others are working on a ritual?’ 

He looked bashful. ‘I’m going to bring that thing down. Stay here, keep an eye out for Raskoph, keep the Muggles safe -’ 

‘Oh, no!’ Rose stamped her foot. ‘I am not going to stay down here _again_ while you boys run off like idiots to do idiotic, heroic, punning things -’ 

‘ _Looks like we_ _’re between a rock and a hard place!_ ’ 

_I will kill you, Scorpius Malfoy._   
  
‘I can do this, Rose,’ said Matt, shoulders squaring. ‘Trust me.’ 

He hesitated, and for one horrible moment she thought he was going to say something more, do something more - which meant she didn’t act when he lifted his wand, turned on the spot, and with a terrible _crack_ , disappeared. 

She whirled around, looked up at the dragon - and saw a dark shape appear just above it as it swept after Scorpius, saw Matt fall several long feet before crashing onto the back of the dragon-golem. Her heart lunged back into her throat as he bounced, rolled - then he’d grabbed a hand-hold, was dragging himself to security and safety. 

‘That’s it!’ she heard Matt yell. ‘No more mister gneiss guy.’ 

Rose swore. ‘I’m going to kill you _both_ ,’ she muttered, and turned back to the castle, because if she couldn’t help here, then she could at least help Lisa and Selena - 

Which was when she saw the half-dozen or so black dots come soaring over the walls, of Albus and the Council wizards he was locked in aerial combat with, and she skidded to a halt. 

_At least the Portugese magical authority is probably already having a fit over this. Wherever they are._

* * 

‘I don’t know much about rituals,’ said Lisa, brow furrowed as she walked around the tomb, examining the markings on the ground. ‘You seem to.’ 

‘I helped Methuselah when _he_ figured out how to reverse the Hogwarts ritual,’ said Selena, stepping up to the sarcophagus. ‘I know what stuff looks like, I might even be able to make an educated guess, but I am _not_ an expert. One thing I do know, though, is that the centre-point of a ritual is important, and so that means _this_ is important. Help me with this lid?’ 

The talkative wizard had been Stunned again, so Lisa tucked her wand away to come over and help her, scraping the stone lid away. 

‘Okay,’ said Selena, sticking her head in the gap. ‘That’s a dragon statue and it’s _recently_ broken, so it looks like we’ve screwed this up good and - oh, shit, that’s a body.’ 

The two of them stared down at the sarcophagus as Lisa pushed the lid off it completely. ‘That’s a remarkably well-preserved body for an old Templar tomb,’ she added. 

And it was. The worn cloth and metal and chainmail was of a style Selena wasn’t going to call anything more specific than ‘medieval’, and across his chest was a white surcoat emblazoned with the red Templar cross. But he _should_ have rotted over the years, surely, and the man wearing it all was whole. He looked no more than his late-thirties, square-jawed, dark of hair and bearded, and so peaceful he might as well have been sleeping, not dead. 

‘I don’t -’ 

Then he opened his eyes, and Selena would have been rewarded with the satisfaction of seeing Lisa - hardened, stoic Lisa - scream with surprise. 

Except _she_ was too busy screaming. ‘Oh my God, he’s alive!’ 

The man squinted up at them. ‘ _Quoi_?’ 

‘Oh my God, he’s French!’ 

‘Oh. English.’ He sat up, lifting a hand to his head - and lowered it as Lisa whipped out her wand and shoved it in his face. ‘I would not do that.’ 

‘Okay! We all need to stop and calm down!’ said Selena, lifting her hands, even though she was talking loudly, quickly, and in a very high pitch. 

‘Who are you?’ Lisa demanded, ignoring Selena. 

‘I could ask you the same question. _You_ woke _me_. Surely you know who you were waking?’ Then the Templar looked down and saw the broken statue at his feet. He tensed. ‘What did you _do_?’ 

‘They did it!’ squeaked Selena, pointing at the Stunned Council wizard. ‘We didn’t do anything! Except interrupt their ritual and possibly cause the statue to break due to a backlash of magical power!’ Facts had fallen into her head over the time spent with Methuselah, she realised. She hadn’t known she knew so much about the general principles of rituals, but it made _sense_. 

The Templar looked over. ‘And who are they?’ 

‘Who are _you_?’ Lisa repeated. 

‘Someone has to start answering things! I’m Selena Rourke! This is Lisa Delacroix! _They_ are the Council of Thorns, _really bad_ Dark Wizards who wanted to take over this _golem-dragon_ you apparently have here!’ Selena tried to not sound as hysterical as she felt - then she narrowed her eyes at the groggy-looking Templar. ‘Morgana’s tits, are you Reynald de Sablé?’ 

The look on his face told her she was right, but still he frowned. ‘You could keep a more civil tongue in your head, good lady. That was improper, and twice now you have taken the Lord’s name in vain.’ 

Lisa lowered her wand and muttered something in French. De Sablé glared at that, too, and she rolled her eyes. ‘This is great - except - no, no, I can’t move past this,’ she decided. ‘You’re _actually_ a several centuries-old Templar?’ 

‘We already knew he was long-lived from his records in Ager Sanguinis,’ said Selena, speaking very quickly. ‘If he had the Chalice and was drinking from it then that he lived a long time isn’t exactly unusual -’ 

Then the chamber around them shook, dust knocked from the ceiling, and a low rumble echoed through the masonry like the building itself was a beast about to be unleashed. They all looked up. ‘Oh, yeah,’ said Selena. ‘And there’s a golem-dragon on the loose.’ 

‘ _That_ is a problem,’ said de Sablé, clambering out of the sarcophagus. ‘I have been resting here with the statue imbued with its Words.’ He nodded at the broken dragon statue. ‘In the right hands, the golem is a mighty weapon, the secret behind this fortress’s strength. But with the statue _broken_ , that construct will answer no master, and revert to its primary purpose: destruction.’ 

Lisa also looked at the statue. ‘Can you fix that?’ 

‘Perhaps,’ said de Sablé. ‘I am not sure I can do so before it destroys the convent, the castle, and the town.’ 

‘Matt said he had an idea.’ Selena bit her lip. ‘I mean, all he’s got is one of those Templar swords, and they _do_ work against golems…’ 

De Sablé looked at her, brow furrowing. ‘It is what they were made for, to disrupt magic,’ he agreed. ‘But it will take more than just a sword to stop this.’

* * 

_Four to go_ , thought Scorpius as he saw Albus cut through the swarm of Council wizards like the strong and smooth slash of a scimitar. There was a flash of magic, the spark of a Stun, and one of them fell, a limp shape tumbling through the sky as Albus rounded on the rest of their enemies. 

Without thinking, Scorpius dove in their direction. He skimmed the top of the ring wall as he tore away from the castle, all-too aware of the hulking shape of the golem-dragon still hot on his heels, but for those thudding heartbeats didn’t care about the construct behind him, of the danger in his flying. ‘ _Wingardium Leviosa_!’ 

His wand lashed out - but not at Albus. Magic rippled across the air to wrap around the tumbling Council wizard, and then they weren’t in a free-fall but a bobbing descent. 

_Nobody_ _’s dying this time._

The reward for his compassion came seconds later, when he yanked at the handle of his broom to pull out of the dive. The golem-dragon roared again, that deafening sound of stone scraping on stone, and his instincts screamed at him to swerve - but too late. He’d been too distracted, too focused on making sure the Council flier didn’t become a smear on the ground, and so pulled his broom up straight into the path of the golem-dragon’s next burst of concentrated, magical breath. 

He was only at the periphery, but the blast was enough to send him rocketing out of control, tumbling head-over-feet. His knees slipped on the broom’s handle, and he would have fallen but for his desperate, white-knuckled grip. He righted himself with a grunt of effort, yanked the handle to the side so hard the muscles in his arms screamed in protest to avoid a looming tree-trunk, then he was soaring upward, free, catching his breath and his balance. 

Scorpius chanced a look over his shoulder. The blast of air had scattered the bulk of the Council wizards, forcing them to swerve or be struck, and Albus himself had rocketed high over the disaster, clear of danger and in control. While Scorpius had always been the better flier, while Albus’ talents as a Quidditch captain had come more from his grasp of tactics and leadership, there were reasons they’d been a terror of a partnership. They could anticipate one another, they could reinforce one another, and when Albus was on top form he was an unstoppable, decisive flier to support Scorpius’ acrobatics. 

It was time for those talents to shine. Scorpius’ heart lunged into his throat as he saw the golem-dragon, its pesky little distractions dispatched for the moment, begin a lazy arc to swerve towards the town of Tomar, another roar rumbling across the sky. He grabbed the handle of his broom yet again, but Albus was closer, and it was he who dove for the nose of the enormous construct. 

A flash of his wand, a harmless but dazzling and magic-infused spell, caught the golem-dragon’s attention - and so it swerved after Albus this time. Enormous rocky teeth snapped at the bristles of his broom, but crashed shut on nothing but thin air. Scorpius suppressed a grin. Anticipation and reinforcement. He’d been unable to keep up the diversion, and Albus had seen this and taken over. 

The Council wizards were still scattered, and Scorpius took advantage of the moment to look to the ridged back of the dragon, where Matt had been clinging on for dear life. _What the hell are you hoping to achieve with that sword, Doyle?_ But he was still clambering closer and closer to the head, still moving with dogged determination and an iron grip, and Scorpius knew his best bet was to trust he knew what he was doing, and buy him time. 

Then one of the handful of Council wizards broke off and dove for the back of the dragon. Spells shot from their wand at Matt, but the rocky ridges of the golem-dragon’s back provided enough shelter, and the magic splashed harmlessly off the stony, immune hide. So the flier dove again, this time to land near the golem-dragon’s tail. 

Scorpius’ breath caught in his throat as he got a better look at the wizard now clambering across the golem-dragon’s back after Matt, wand in hand, and without thinking he swerved after them, hurtling at the magical construct he’d been so keen to avoid before now. But now he had no choice, because if he didn’t act, Matt was going to die. 

Because he certainly couldn’t do whatever he planned _and_ fight Prometheus Thane. 

His landing on the huge back of the golem-dragon was not dignified. There was all of twenty-feet of reasonably-flat space to land on before the flanks of the construct curved and would be impossible to stand. Bringing his broom down on such a narrow space, so quickly he wouldn’t be easily spotted, was no mean feat. His feet hit the rocky ‘ground’ and he stumbled, forced to let go of the broom to grab hold of one of the spiny ridges and cling on. 

The broom tumbled past him and fell into the sky which might as well have been endless for how high they were, and he was trapped. Just him, a golem-dragon, and Prometheus Thane. Thane, who was ahead of him, making his steady way across the difficult rocky ground that swerved and spun underfoot, heading for the neck where Matt had reached. 

Scorpius raised his wand and drew a deep breath. ‘ _Stupefy_!’ 

Over the rushing air, his muttered curse wasn’t audible. But Thane stumbled at just the right moment, the magic shooting over his shoulder, and when he looked back his eyes flashed. 

Scorpius tried not to swear, and hurled another spell - only for it to crash off a shield charm, and then he was, yet again, face-to-face with Prometheus Thane. And this time it was to protect, of all people, Matthias Doyle. 

‘I heard you were dead!’ called Thane, twirling his wand in one hand, the other clinging to the rocky spines of the golem-dragon that bucked and swerved under them. 

‘You need to get better at murdering people in their sleep!’ 

Thane gave a twist of a smile. The air was rushing past them, blasting Scorpius’ hair out of his face, and the landscape around might as well have been anywhere for how little he could pay attention to were the golem-dragon was trying to rampage, or to where Albus was managing to lead it. The world had narrowed away from Tomar, even away from Matt’s gambit, and become nothing more than him and Thane. 

As it always was. 

The retort was a blast Scorpius surprised himself by shielding, and then the sky was filled with crackling magic and danger. 


	35. The Fall that Kills You

He’d soared so high that looking down was like looking at a living, breathing map - not the world he’d flown away to protect. Every inch of his focus had narrowed to his broom, his limbs, the looming shape that raced after him, so much that anything else looked unreal. Irrelevant. A distraction. The only truths were the broom in his hands, the wind racing in his hair and rushing in his ears, and the buffeting wing-beats of the monstrous construct that snapped its stony maw shut in the space he’d been a heartbeat ago. 

_Scorpius would make a pun._ Albus yanked up the handle of his broom to reverse his momentum, flipping backwards away from the dragon’s lunge. _There are times I hate being the straight man._ He didn’t know enough geology; he’d not understood the ‘gneiss guy’ pun made by, of all people, Matt. 

Matt, the loon who apparated onto the back of the dragon and had by now reached the golem’s neck, who had tucked away wand and sword and was scrabbling, feet dangling in thin-air with every missed foot-hold, closer to the monstrosity’s mouth. Albus didn’t have a clue what he was doing, but he knew he could trust him. He knew he could trust all of them. Matt on the dragon’s back, Rose on the ground protecting the Muggles, Selena and even Lisa underground with whatever was going on _there_.   
  
But that was not where the bulk of his focus lay. No, the bulk of his focus, when he wasn’t worrying about being eaten by a golem-dragon, was with the two figures stood on the monstrosity’s back, ducking and weaving behind the rocky ridges of its spine, of its stony hide, hurling spells and dodging and rolling and using every inch of physical and magical prowess to best each other - and to stay alive. Prometheus Thane. Scorpius Malfoy. Locked in a fight before Albus’ eyes, a fight he couldn’t make a single move to help with. 

He’d tried. He’d spun over the dragon’s head to rain spells down on Thane, but then the dragon had tried to back-flip to follow him, and Albus had realised he had a third priority, after ‘stay alive’ and ‘stop the dragon from killing people’. He had to keep the dragon _stable_ if he didn’t want it to toss Matt and Scorpius from its back. So he’d gone high, trusting his speed and resilience to stay out of the dragon’s way, even if it denied him the cover of trees and masonry, and he chanced what glances he could at the fight. 

Thane’s wand lashed out and Scorpius fell onto his back, rolled along the golem-dragon’s hide towards the edge - and as Albus’ heart lunged into his throat, Scorpius grabbed a hold just before the long, long drop, secure, intact, alive - 

Then the dragon’s buffeting breath thudded into Albus and his broom dead-on. He’d been distracted for that handful of crucial heartbeats, too slow to see the golem-dragon open its mouth. Before, he’d only been caught by edges of that torrent of air that crackled with magical strength. 

Now it hit him like a freight train, knocking the breath from his lungs, sending him spinning over and over, his broom out of control, his limbs in pain - 

_Scorpius would have dodged that._

\- and the broom went flying from his legs, flying from his grasp. Albus swore, reached for the handle - grabbed it - fumbled it - felt it slip from his fingers - 

He fell, his broom tumbling far below him, his arms and legs flailing for purchase on thin air but finding nothing. And the dragon rocketed down with him.

* * 

‘I can explain,’ said de Sablé, footsteps ringing out on the cold stone corridors of the castle. Even though Selena was in a dead-sprint behind him, she had to take a heartbeat to appreciate that he looked, in his chainmail and Templar tabard, like he belonged here in a way nothing they’d seen today did. ‘But first, that dragon. Or we’re all dead.’ 

Selena looked at the two halves of the broken dragon statue in her hands. ‘I’m assuming glue won’t work.’ 

‘No.’ 

_He_ _’s no fun. He doesn’t like my jokes._ Selena threw a glance over her shoulder at Lisa when they burst from the shadowy corridors into the bright, blinding sunlight of the courtyard. ‘Then let’s find Rose. If anyone here’s going to be able to fix this thing in time, it’ll be -’ 

Spells flew from their left, an array of panicked Stuns and blasts, and de Sablé had to throw himself behind a nearby statue to avoid them. Selena ducked back behind the doorway, only chancing the briefest of glances to assess the situation. The courtyard had gone from medieval splendour to an ancient ghost town since she’d last seen it. Soaring spires and tall walls, as forbidding as an imposing teacher, had lost chunks of rubble from the golem-dragon’s onslaught, and the place was deserted of Muggles. Though it was not empty. 

She could see Rose taking cover behind a fountain that had been shattered. Its water now sprayed into the courtyard, the sunlight turning it into a fine rainbow that kaleidoscoped even more as the colours of spells refracted through it. It was enough to give the fight a gentle glow, like it was something soft and delicate. Not harsh and murderous. Hunkered behind a chunk of fallen wall were their attackers: the tall, sallow-faced figure she’d concluded was Raskoph, and his surviving wizard. They’d had Rose pinned down, but with their arrival now they were forced to fight on two fronts. 

Selena backed off. Lisa could take her place - and did so with gusto, spells flying from the tip of her wand with that ease which made violence look as natural as breathing. De Sablé had flattened himself against the ground, perfectly calm under fire, and reached to his belt to pull out a wand. 

‘They’re falling back,’ Lisa called to her. ‘But I think Weasley’s about to loop around and pin them in - we can _take them_.’ There was a strange edge to her voice. The adrenaline of battle. The euphoria of pending victory. And something else, an almost wistful, pained air. But this wasn’t the top of Selena’s concern. 

She searched the skies, and it didn’t take long to find the dark shape of the dragon, because it was rocketing downward, closer, larger, looming ever greater. Within seconds it wasn’t just a shadow; within seconds she could see the furl of its stone wings, the ridges of its hide and spines, the length of the rock teeth within its great maw. If it weren’t for the way the light just hit it, with none of the gleam of dragon’s scales, she could have been fooled into thinking it was real. 

Then again, a real dragon didn’t _usually_ go on a mad rampage as its very first action. This one was mindless, thoughtless - a monster in every sense of the word. 

And it wasn’t the only dark shape in the sky. 

‘Shit,’ Selena breathed as she saw the second dot. ‘Someone’s down. Someone’s falling.’

* * 

‘ _Albus_!’ 

Scorpius hurled himself to one side. Whistling through the space he’d been, Thane’s spell hit one of the golem-dragon’s ridges, and was met with that harmless ripple he expected from these magic-repelling constructs. He landed hard, shoulder smacking into rock - 

Then the dragon was diving, breaking into a dead drop after Albus’ dead drop, and Scorpius clung on to not be tossed from the creature’s back. But at least Thane couldn’t push the advantage, because he had to hang on, too. 

‘You know,’ shouted Thane, arm wrapped around one of the stony spines of the dragon’s ridged back. ‘You broke our agreement!’ 

‘You think I care?’ 

‘You might.’ Thane pulled himself half-upright, gaze going to the tumbling shape of Albus. ‘Because I did say I’d kill Albus Potter in front of you.’ And his wand shot out at him. 

‘ _No_!’ 

Scorpius lunged, not caring that he’d just hurled his life into gravity’s hands. He scrabbled over the dragon’s rocky back to slam his shoulder into Thane before the man could cast. They both went down, hitting stone, rolling, skidding, flailing for purchase. Again he had to reach out, again he fumbled for a hand-hold, again he caught himself before a long, long fall, but that didn’t matter, couldn’t matter, and before he even knew he was secure, he looked up - 

\- to see Albus snatching the broom that had rocketed back at him, getting a solid hold, hauling himself _back_ onto it, and Scorpius’ heart started beating again. 

‘So he had his wits enough for a Summoning,’ mused Thane. ‘No matter. I _did_ say I’d kill him slowly and agonisingly. There’s always another time.’ 

The feeling Scorpius most often associated with Thane was terror. Blind fear and the knowledge that he couldn’t beat him. But that terror exploded into a thousand pieces, shattering and tumbling all around at the burst of rage that blossomed in his gut, and his fingers curled tight around his wand. ‘I’m going to kill you,’ he spat. ‘I swear to _God_ , some day I’m going to kill you.’ 

Then he hurled his spells and the air was once again filled with magic. Once he could never have dreamt of going toe-to-toe with Prometheus Thane, but he was better now, faster, stronger, more powerful - and here, with the ground underfoot tumbling and falling, with agility as much a necessity as spellpower, he stood half a chance. 

And he was determined that half a chance was all he’d need.

* * 

_This was your worst idea **ever** , Doyle_. Matt felt his legs shaking under him as he edged around the ‘lip’ of the golem-dragon’s pitiless maw. During the dead drop as it descended after Albus, all he could do was cling on for dear life, watch the ground race up at them, watch Albus tumble, and do nothing. 

Now he was secure. Now the dragon was levelling out, even if the castle, the town, were closer. All the people depending on him, closer to danger. Albus looked shaky on his broom, and he could hear the spells flung about above and behind him by Thane and Scorpius. They were running out of time. 

Hand shaking, he reached for the sword-hilt nestled in his jacket. ‘I need _you_ , big fella,’ he growled through gritted teeth, ‘to open up. Nice… and… wide!’ 

He didn’t know if this thing could feel pain. If it couldn’t, he’d have to hack his way through. The Templar sword shimmered in the sunlight, as balanced and perfect in his hand as ever, and a sense of certainty rushed through him. He could do this. He _would_ do this. And then there’d be no more mocking of Matt the nerd, no more mixed attitudes from Selena and dismissal from Scorpius and polite disinterest from Albus. 

And nothing from Rose. No, wait. He’d _prefer_ nothing. 

This was _not_ the time to think about that. 

He swung, and the sword came crashing down on one of the mighty, pointed teeth of the golem-dragon that was as large as he was tall. The magical energy rippled and broke like it was supposed to, and not only did he take off a clear three feet of the stony tooth, but the golem-dragon _felt_ it. Matt had to tighten its grip as it jerked, bucked, and opened its mouth to _roar_ with pain. 

The mouth was a problem. It could bite him. It could emit that surge of magic-infused breath that had sent Albus off his broom and would doubtless catapult him into thin air if he himself was caught in it. But it was where he needed to be, because there was one universal fact of golems, if his reading was correct, which was the great weakness. Even for something this big. 

So he swung _inside_ the dragon’s mouth, finding himself in cool darkness - 

And then it closed its mouth on him.

* * 

‘Oh, hell.’ 

Albus was having trouble staying on his broom. His limbs were shaking, his hands and legs couldn’t grip properly, and he felt like he was going to slide off at any moment. _Breathing_ was difficult, too, every inhale a shudder, and his heart was pounding so quickly he thought it was going to rip its way out of his chest. If the dragon went for him again, he didn’t think he was going to manage any more exciting acrobatics. 

But if there was one distraction from his brush with death, it was seeing the dragon clamp its mouth shut around Matt. 

‘He crawled in it. He crawled _in it_.’ He was bent over his broom, clutching at it for dear life, just trying to stay upright. Thane and Scorpius still threw spells at one another, able to go toe-to-toe just because the ground changed under them, the golem bucked and twisted, and the challenge was as much about staying on it as it was about wand-work. He had to help them. Or he had to guide the dragon elsewhere. Or he had to try to save Matt. 

Except he couldn’t breathe. He could barely fly. He couldn’t fight. 

Then the dragon bucked again, a ripple running across the golem’s entire form, like its stony skin was shivering. Except that was impossible - except what the hell _was_ possible right now? - but he saw Scorpius tumble, roll over - grab a hand-hold, and he thought his heart would burst with relief. 

Right up until the dragon slumped. Its wings stopped beating. Its head dipped, its limbs dipped. 

And it fell like the stone it was.

* * 

‘It’s going down!’ yelled Rose, but there was no jubilation as they looked up to see the enormous construct falling from the sky. It was over hillside, at least, and wasn’t going to come down on a building or on people, and Albus was back on his broom, so Selena didn’t know what made her friend sound so afraid. 

Then she realised she couldn’t see Scorpius _or_ Matt, and she turned her face up to the tumbling shape with horror. 

_They **didn**_ ** _’t_** _._   
  
She wasn’t sure _what_ they might have done, but if there was the remotest reason for them to do something stupid like ride a magic stone dragon, then _of course_ that was what was happening. 

There were twin _cracks_ from around the corner, and some distant part of Selena’s brain registered that Raskoph and his remaining compatriot had taken advantage of the distraction, and probably of the destruction of their target, to make a speedy disapparition and getaway. She didn’t care. 

The tiny dot that was Albus on his broom dropped after the tumbling dragon, rocketing through the sky like a bullet, and as he swung by the enormous shadow, Selena thought she saw another shape jump _off_ the construct. It had to be Scorpius, she thought - Scorpius getting off the falling damned pile of rock, landing on the back of Albus’ broom next to him - 

\- and then the dragon rolled mid-air and she couldn’t see either of them any more. 

She ran, but Lisa was faster, bolting for the crumbled gateway they’d come into the castle grounds by. Rose scrabbled after them and she had no idea where de Sablé was. Even if he was perhaps the most valuable and important person there, she didn’t care. In the woodlands they lost sight of the falling shape. But it didn’t take long before there was the resounding _crash_ of impact, like a building had collapsed, like thunder had tumbled to mundane earth, and a shudder ran through the ground as the dust rocketed sky-high in front of them, a blanketing mist of debris and dirt. It enveloped them the moment they burst into the open ground where the golem-dragon had landed, shattered into hundreds of pieces of rubble, and as Selena skidded to a halt beside Lisa, for a moment she could see nothing but dust, hear nothing but the echo of impact. 

Then Lisa cocked her head to the left and was off like a shot. ‘ _Albus_!’ 

Selena went to follow - then couldn’t. Her limbs wouldn’t respond, and when she drew a deep breath of choking dust, she felt the shake. 

_No. No, I_ _’m not going in there, I won’t see it again, I won’t do this again, I won’t, I won’t…_   
  
Rose skidded to a halt at her side, cheeks flushed, hair wild, and she grabbed her arm. ‘Where -’ There was the crack of magic, a flash in the dust-cloud, and Rose snapped up her wand. Nothing else happened, though the light of magic illuminated four silhouetted forms, and the dust started to settle enough for them to see. Albus and Scorpius had landed or crashed and either way lay groaning on the ground amidst the rubble of the shattered dragon. They looked alive but pained, and far too stunned to defend themselves against the tall, willowy shape of Prometheus Thane who stood above them. 

So Lisa did. 

She’d thrown a spell at Thane, who’d neatly blocked it, but then there was another, and another. Had Selena been able to care, she would have admired the wand-work from them both, quick as lightning, back-and-forth and anticipating the other’s moves as if they’d done this a thousand times before. But Lisa was driving him back, back, and she could see the widening of Thane’s eyes until he threw his wand upward, and her next spell just bounced off a solid Shield. 

‘Fine!’ she heard Thane bellow across the distance. ‘The hunt’s back on, and I look forward to it. But there _will_ be another time.’ Then he turned with the _crack_ of disapparition and was gone, leaving them alone in the settling dust. 

Rose shot from Selena’s side to come to a skidding halt next to the boys, picking themselves up from the rubble with a groan. ‘Scorp! Al?’ 

Albus lifted a hand. ‘I’m okay, we’re okay, bastard _levitated_ himself -’ He broke into a coughing, sputtering fit, before he looked up at Lisa, who was frozen on the spot where she’d driven Thane off. ‘…thanks.’ 

She didn’t say anything, and that was when Selena looked away from the scene, found strength in her limbs enough to move. _Matt. Matt, where the hell are you -_   
  
It was a familiar sense of the world shrinking to only what mattered. No care for whatever Lisa was doing or saying, no care for how Albus or Scorpius were because they were _alive_. She was aware of Rose next to her, understanding her fear even though she wished she _didn_ _’t_ , looking frantically through the rubble like it was the same for her even though it _wasn_ _’t_ \-   
  
And then, through the settling dust where the head had fallen, a figure limped towards them. First a silhouette, but relief flooded through Selena at the sight of the wand in one hand, the length of a long, shining sword in the other. Matt was battered and bruised, an absolutely filthy state, but when he stumbled into sight she could see he was grinning broadly, his teeth a flash of white in the dirt on his face, and she could only stop and _stare_ when he saw her. His breath was shaky, but euphoric. ‘So. I killed a dragon.’ 

Again she couldn’t talk, couldn’t move, could barely _breathe_ , though she cursed Rose for stepping forward and asking, in a hushed voice, ‘ _How_?’ 

But then the air cracked again, and new figures appeared around them again, and for a moment Selena thought it was the Council of Thorns, back for more, at the sight of a score of wizards in long, impressive robes encircling them. Then they started to babble at her in a language she couldn’t understand, barking instructions which made it clear they were to not act, not make sudden moves, and flashing badges she distantly recognised. 

At long last - though in practice it couldn’t have been more than five, ten minutes since the dragon had first appeared, even if it felt like a lifetime - the Portugese magical authorities had made it to Tomar. 

And they were probably going to want answers.

* * 

‘I want to see the others,’ said Rose, arms folded across her chest. ‘I have that right.’ 

‘You’re not in Britain any more, Miss Weasley. If that _is_ who you are.’ The Portuguese Auror, who had given his name as Santiago, leaned back on his chair with his file in hand. ‘Don’t assume you know how we do things here.’ 

‘You… lock us up without any legal advice and stare at us until we give answers?’ 

The file slammed down on the table in the dark, cramped room, Santiago’s expression twisting. ‘You were involved in this country’s most _massive_ breach of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy in a hundred years. A site of our national heritage has been ruined, Muggles are injured and panicking and babbling what they saw across the world, and I have several _confirmed_ members of the Council of Thorns in cells.’ 

When the dust had settled, when they’d been surrounded by Santiago and his men, Rose had been the first to put down her wand as instructed, and had gestured for the others to do the same. Raskoph and Thane had seen them; they had no more reason to be coy about their identity, and what was the alternative? She was worn from reinforcing the tower at the convent, Albus and Scorpius could barely stand, and Matt had just finished somehow dropping a golem-dragon. That left Selena, clearly on the verge of panic, and Lisa, who looked like she’d rip out someone’s jugular with the remotest provocation. 

It was time to cooperate with the authorities. Not fight them. 

Looking at Santiago’s cold, dark eyes, she was wondering if she’d made a terrible error. ‘They’re there,’ said Rose, forcing her voice to be calm, ‘because _we_ brought them down. There are Muggles alive because of us. We didn’t fight with the Council. We fought _against_ them.’ She paused. ‘How are the Obliviators doing?’ 

‘Wiping a _lot_ of memories. Thankfully we have good people who were able to clamp down on the photos and videos going out within seconds, so we only have to worry about the witnesses. As far as they’re concerned, there was a shift of some unstable ground which resulted in the building damage and the minor injuries from falling debris. It will be considered nothing more than an unfortunate natural incident. So don’t you worry about the Statute. Worry about how we _punish_ people for threatening it, and so worry about the necks of the six of you.’ 

_Six. Where_ _’s de Sablé?_ He hadn’t followed them out of the castle grounds, Rose had realised once they were surrounded. Perhaps it was for the best. If their guesses were correct, he would be an awkward source of curiosity. But they would _have_ to find him. 

_First, get out of here._   
  
‘All right. I’ll worry about us. So I want to see them.’ 

‘You can’t -’ 

‘A couple of us are claiming to be the children of British war heroes. Another is claiming to be the daughter of the _Chairman_ of the International Magical Convocation. All of us back from the dead. Now, you have to check this out, Auror Santiago, and I understand that, but you _also_ can’t afford to do more than ask me some tense questions. Because if I’m not lying, doing more would end very poorly for you. So how about, until you hear back from the British Ministry of Magic with some confirmation one way or another, you let me _see_ them?’ 

Her voice had raised to echo across the cramped interrogation room, both hands planted on the table. Santiago’s expression didn’t change throughout, though something more sour entered his gaze. His jaw tightened. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘You get one. Which one?’ 

She hesitated - then trusted her gut instinct. ‘I want to see Scorpius Malfoy.’ 

She’d seen him fall atop the dragon, seen him and Albus disappear in the chaos of the tumble, and she’d thought her heart would stop. But it didn’t - it thudded out every long moment of the fall, and she’d been powerless to do anything but stand and gawp. And then run. When she’d found him he’d been at Thane’s mercy, then she’d had to see if Matt was still alive, and by the time she’d got to his side, the Aurors had arrived. And she’d had to let them take him away. 

Santiago led her out of the interrogation room and down the cold stone corridor of wherever this Auror office was towards the cells. She’d been stuck in one of those for an hour before the questioning, but he led her past the door to her cell and onward to another, which he opened with a key. ‘You’ve got ten minutes.’ 

‘Give me until you get an answer,’ said Rose. ‘It’s not like you’re in a rush or don’t have _confirmed_ Council wizards to interrogate.’ 

He didn’t reply, and she stepped past him into the gloom of the cell. Being arrested was a new experience for her, but at least the Portuguese magical authorities kept their criminal containment areas - if dark and clearly quite ancient - warm and dry, with a bunk along the wall that it wouldn’t kill her back to spend a night on. Though she’d rather not. 

Scorpius was sat on it, back to the wall. He was still covered in dust and dirt, his jacket still scuffed and battered, cuts and scrapes and bruises about him, but his eyes fluttered open at her arrival, bright blue to pierce the darkness. His expression set, and he got to his feet, aching but tall, real, _there_. 

She wrung her hands together as Santiago closed the door behind her, and when she spoke, her voice shook. ‘Hey.’ 

His gaze was flickering over every inch of her face, shoulders sharing the same tension as her. ‘Hey.’ 

Then she flew over into his arms, clutching at him like he was her anchor to the only light in this darkness. ‘I thought you were gone; you were on that thing, then we lost sight of _both_ of you…’ 

He staggered, but rallied to wrap his arms around her. ‘I’m okay! I’m okay. Al caught me, got us out the way…’ 

She pulled back only enough to lift her hands to his cheeks, fingertips wiping streaks in the dirt on his face. _But I saw a world where I lost you_ , she thought, and couldn’t say. _And for a few seconds I was in that world_. ‘I…’ Her mouth went dry, and suddenly the silence was filled with the thunderous echo of the unspoken. 

His breathing slowed as he sensed it too, then his hand was at her chin, touch no longer ardent but achingly gentle, and he bowed his head to lean inches closer. ‘I know,’ he whispered. ‘There was that moment where the dragon was falling, before I saw Albus… and I figured that was it. I’d like to say I thought about what I’d miss, what I’d regret, the things I hadn’t had a chance to do. I didn’t, I just pretty much thought, “argh”, but if I _had_ promised myself I’d do something it would be this -’ He kissed her, and it was life in an embrace, like not only was he affirming he was alive, but that _she_ was, too, _they_ were. All she could do was fall into his arms, grab greedy fistfuls of his battered jacket, and by the time he pulled back they were both gasping for air. ‘I love you,’ he breathed against her lips. ‘That’s what I should have promised I’d say, so I’m saying it now, before the next disaster happens, before the next interruption -’ 

‘Miss Weasley? Mister Malfoy?’ The next interruption came quickly. 

Rose opened her eyes and gritted her teeth. ‘Auror Santiago, if you could _just_ give me _one_ minute -’ 

‘This looks _real_ touching, I’m sure, but I’ve got someone insisting to see you and she’smore important than you _or_ me.’ 

‘Rose?’ 

_Oh my God, moments I_ _’ve been daydreaming of are happening at once and they are_ ** _not going together well_**. Rose let go of Scorpius and turned to see her mother at the door. She’d tied her hair back, which was a sign that things were _really_ wrong, that it would go wild if not restrained. Bags hung dark under her eyes, her skin was pale, and all-in-all, she looked like she’d not slept in weeks. 

She probably hadn’t. But she still lifted a hand when Rose took an awkward step forward. ‘Stop.’ Although there had been hope and hesitation before, her voice now went cold. ‘When you were six years old, you snuck into my office with Hugo and, when you were playing, the two of you broke something. What was it?’ 

_Ah._ Rose drew a slow breath. ‘The little desk clock that Grandma Molly got you a few Christmases before that. It was like the one at the Burrow, with hands for all of us, but you hated it because it put Dad under ‘Mortal Peril’ every time he got into a fight at work and that was just stressful, so you weren’t _that_ angry when it broke.’ Her throat went even tighter, apprehensive under her mother’s cold gaze. ‘You tried to not smile when telling us off.’ 

But Hermione crossed the distance and pulled her into a fervent embrace, and before she could stop herself, Rose burst into tears on her mother’s shoulder. For a long moment the two of them didn’t do anything, say anything, just clutched at each other, and when her mother spoke again it sounded like she was working hard to not cry. ‘You were dead. We thought you were all dead…’ 

‘We had to pretend - I’m _sorry_.’ The apology choked in Rose’s throat and with it came the wave of shame. She’d never truly doubted their choice, but it hurt to think of what she’d done to her family. ‘I didn’t want to, but Kythos, all those people - we had to keep secret -’ 

‘I know.’ Her mother’s hand came to her hair, a soothing touch. ‘I understand, it’s all right… I wasn’t sure it was you, I _had_ to be sure…’ 

Finally Rose pulled back, and sniffed in a way which was definitely dignified. ‘Is Dad here? Harry?’ 

‘No, I wanted to make sure for myself. Word came to Lillian and she told _me_ , but we came here, just us, and didn’t want to… if it wasn’t you, we didn’t want to get someone’s hopes up, but - how?’ 

‘We can tell the whole story, but we should get everyone for it - I bet Lillian’s with Selena? - and there are the others…’ 

Scorpius shifted his feet at this, and the sound brought him into the moment which before had narrowed to only her and her mother. He lifted a hand in greeting to Hermione, not quite meeting her gaze. ‘Hey, Ms Granger.’ 

Her mother hadn’t cried yet. But for some reason the sight of Scorpius was too much, and Hermione tore from Rose’s arms to throw herself at him, pulling him into a thoroughly weepy hug. He staggered at the impact and looked shocked beyond all belief, but all Rose could manage was a hapless, one-sided shrug and wry smile. And all he could do was put his arm around her mother and pat her shoulder in an astonished manner. 

At least they were getting on.


	36. Back in Black

‘So that’s everything,’ said Albus. Being freed from jail by Lillian Rourke and Hermione Granger had its advantages beyond mere liberty. The Portuguese authorities, keen to cooperate once the security risk was dealt with, had offered them space in the government headquarters to talk, but Lillian had turned her nose up at such. A few, imperious commands and a Portkey later found them in one of the more auspicious hotels in magical Portugal - or, for the moment, one of its conference rooms. 

Because of course Lillian Rourke and Hermione Granger would want to be in a conference room when bringing everyone back up to speed. 

‘Not quite,’ said Rose, and looked at Matt. ‘What didyou do to that dragon?’ 

‘Yeah, I thought it _ate_ you,’ said Scorpius, who was sat next to her, didn’t seem inclined to move away any time soon, and kept a hand resting casually on her forearm. She was perfectly comfortable with this, even if her mother was in the room. 

Matt was worn and battered but did a poor job of hiding his grin. ‘Once I knew it was a golem, I knew there’d only be one way of taking it down. Anything as powerful as a golem can’t just be enchanted - okay, so I don’t know the full technical workings because that’s ancient and strong and _wacky_ magic, and I wasn’t sure if I wasn’t acting off, well, myth and legend -’ 

‘Skip to the end, Doyle.’ Selena was pale, her voice tight. 

Matt faltered. ‘Er, okay. Golems are reportedly animated not just by magic, but by words of power inscribed on a piece of paper which rests in the golem’s forehead or mouth. I was right, and found the roll of parchment in the dragon’s mouth. These words are traditionally Hebrew words, and this one was - “ _emet_ ”, which is “truth” in Hebrew. But if I defaced one of the letters, that changed the inscription from “truth” to “death”. So it killed the golem.’ 

‘Mid-air,’ said Albus, lips twitching. 

Matt finally looked bashful. ‘I didn’t have much of a choice.’ 

‘It would seem not,’ said Lillian Rourke, sat next to Hermione at the head of the table. ‘Tremendous work, Mister Doyle, truly. Considering it seems like a giant flying construct effectively _immune_ to magic was set to go on an unstoppable rampage otherwise. Not many people would have known of that, or thought of it.’ 

‘Maybe not, but we’ve had a few run-ins with golems. It’s been sensible for me to learn what to do.’ 

Lisa looked up. She’d been quiet through the retelling, but now she drew a slow breath. ‘Are there any leads on Thane or Raskoph?’ 

‘Regrettably not,’ said Hermione. ‘They took advantage of the chaos to flee. But Santiago’s interrogations of the Council wizards you incapacitated have confirmed what they first told you. In their research into the Chalice of Emrys, they found mention of the golem here in Tomar, an old Templar guardian. They seem to be low on leads on the Chalice - or, at the least, none of the prisoners here know of any leads - but someone in the Council thought an unstoppable golem-dragon would make a weapon _they_ wanted.’ 

Scorpius shrugged. ‘Who _wouldn_ _’t_ want an unstoppable golem-dragon?’ 

‘The dragon was to be bound and controlled by that statue in the tomb, and Raskoph was conducting the ritual to transfer control and then awaken it. Attacking them disrupted the ritual and set the dragon on a rampage,’ Hermione said. 

Lisa grimaced. ‘Perhaps a tactical misjudgement from us.’ 

Selena shook her head. ‘It was still possible they were going to drop Phlegethon - Eridanos, I mean - on Tomar. Hesitating could have killed people. We made the best call we could at the time.’ She hesitated. ‘Has anyone found de Sablé? Or the guy dressed up in ancient armour who was asleep in a Templar tomb and is claiming to be de Sablé?’ 

‘If he’s done a runner,’ Matt muttered, ‘I’m going to vomit with irritation.’ 

‘He’s not come forward at Tomar,’ said Lillian. 

‘We’ll have to go back there when we’re done. Find him.’ He looked at the others, taking in the states of Albus and Scorpius at the least. ‘Or, okay, _I_ _’ll_ go back there.’ 

‘When we’re done,’ said Rose, nodding, and looked at her mother. ‘So, that’s us. In researching the Chalice, the Council have found other matters of interest, like golem magic and Ager Sanguinis. Which is worrying.’ 

‘It is,’ said Hermione, ‘but at least it means they’re not that hot on the heels of the Chalice.’ 

‘Though neither are _we_ ,’ said Matt. ‘I’m still going through de Sablé’s writings, but talking to the guy _himself_ , if it _is_ him - I kind of hate that a thousand year-old wizard-knight sounds bloody logical - would be better.’ 

‘At least Raskoph and Thane didn’t seem aware of him,’ said Selena. ‘Or if they were, they didn’t tell their flunkeys.’ 

‘They would have _become_ aware,’ said Lisa. ‘So even aside from the golem, our arrival was timely. We would not want to see de Sablé in the hands of the Council of Thorns. He might know _everything_.’ 

Rose thinned her lips. ‘At least they do not. Or, I hope not. But, anyway.’ She looked at her mother, then at Lillian Rourke. ‘We’ve been out of the world a while. What did we miss? Other than the election results?’ 

‘Oh, yeah,’ said Selena. ‘Congratulations on world domination, Mum. I know it’s just what you’ve always wanted.’ 

Lillian gave her daughter a smile. ‘I would have given it up just to know you were safe, dear.’ 

‘And now you’ve got both.’ 

_This is eerie_ , thought Rose, observing mother and daughter, but she turned her gaze on Hermione. ‘So, news _other_ than the Convocation having a hope in hell of making a difference with Chairman Rourke?’ 

‘Truth be told, I’m not surprised the Council of Thorns are hunting down alternate avenues of power,’ said Hermione. ‘They’re on the back foot, globally. The work against Eridanos is going well. They might be changing the virus, but we’re countering them at every turn. It wouldn’t surprise me if that’s what they want from Ager Sanguinis - sites of necromantic power like that are prime for them to empower or alter the virus.’ 

‘I’ll talk with the Syrian authorities,’ said Lillian. ‘See about securing the place. Then they can’t use it.’ 

‘This matter of the Veil is curious, too. I think it’s time we shake someone in the Department of Mysteries until answers come out,’ said Hermione. 

Scorpius quirked an eyebrow. ‘Wouldn’t they then have to change their name?’ 

‘Progress has been made in Brazil, too,’ said Lillian, ignoring the joke. ‘We’ve made contact with the anti-Acosta movement and are getting them funding, equipment, and manpower where we can. We won’t see a Dark Magic administration go unopposed, and to _hell_ with sovereignty. It’s a terrorist takeover and the International Magical Convocation will treat it as such, even if we have to conquer them to free them.’ 

Rose also raised an eyebrow. ‘The Convocation aren’t dragging their feet in this?’ 

‘I’m not _letting_ them,’ said Lillian. 

‘All in all, it’s quite hopeful,’ said Hermione. ‘Raskoph and Thane are their wild cards.’ 

‘I have a question,’ said Albus, sitting up. ‘What does the Council even _want_? “World Domination” sounds a little melodramatic.’ 

‘It might sound it,’ said Lillian,’ but it’s what it is. They’ve united dark wizards and witches across the world in an unprecedented manner. The prisoners we’ve taken say they’ve been leading up to this over five years. Five years of making contacts, worming people into positions of power, before finally striking.’ 

‘It’s all smoke and mirrors,’ said Hermione. ‘Or, that’s my theory. All Eridanos and Phlegethon have achieved is a body count and getting people scared.’ 

‘It’s hurt faith in the governments of the world,’ said Lillian. ‘It’s my goal for the Convocation to restore faith. The Minister of Magic’s ratings have never been lower than they were during the Hogwarts crisis.’ 

‘They’re _still_ low,’ said Hermione. ‘While yours are sky-high.’ 

‘Which I know isn’t fair. I know I’ve taken the credit for the recovery while he’s taken the blame for the fall when the latter’s the Council’s fault and the former’s a group effort.’ Lillian gave a grimace of a smile. ‘But I think that this is what the Council of Thorns wants. To destroy hope and belief, and exploit fear and anger.’ 

Rose nodded. ‘I’m glad to hear the Convocation’s filling that gap. Though what Santiago was saying about the powers they’ve passed to help fight the Council of Thorns is… a little worrying.’ 

Lillian winced under the look Hermione gave her. ‘This was _not_ my proposal. But I backed it. And it’s making a difference. This is why the International Convocation can only be _temporary_ , and I know this.’ 

Albus sat up. Though he was still scuffed and battered, his lip cut, he was still bright-eyed and alert. ‘We’re getting off the topic. We need to figure our next move.’ 

Hermione looked pained. ‘Can your next move not be to come home?’ 

‘I’d love to see everyone,’ said Albus. ‘But this isn’t over.’ 

Rose lifted a hand. ‘I think our next move is to _rest_.’ 

‘My next move,’ said Matt, sitting up, ‘is to go find de Sablé. Before he disappears for good.’ 

Selena looked at Matt. ‘You look like hell.’ 

He frowned at her. ‘ _Thanks_.’ 

‘I mean, should you be tromping around Tomar?’ 

‘I want to find de Sablé. That is _the_ most important thing right now. If we’re nipping home, or if people are coming to see _us_ here, then that won’t be right away.’ 

Scorpius stiffened next to Rose. ‘I’m not going back to Britain.’ 

Hermione’s lips thinned in that way Rose knew meant she was _particularly_ upset about something. ‘I will see about some Portkeys from Britain,’ she said in a low, careful voice. ‘We’ve arranged this accommodation here in Lisbon for you all. And - and we can worry about what comes next _if_ you find de Sablé, or _if_ you find a lead off him or his writings.’ 

And as Rose listened to her mother, she could hear how ardently she hoped there would be no such lead found.

* * 

Selena’s head was still spinning by the time she and Matt appeared back in the dusty courtyard of the Convento de Cristo. Had it only been three hours since they’d been locked here in a firefight with Raskoph? It felt like a lifetime. From the tumbling golem-dragon to a Portuguese cell and the reunion with her mother, she was starting to feel like a dishrag that had been wrung out too much. 

But she couldn’t show it. Now wasn’t the time. ‘I suppose we’d best start in the tomb. Otherwise, we should look for a ditched tabard and chainmail. If he’s gone incognito then he’s probably changed.’ 

‘Yeah.’ Matt frowned as he looked about the courtyard. The Portuguese magical authorities were now on the case and the area was closed off so Obliviators could do their work and scrub the scene of anything which might threaten the Statute. The building was being as repaired as it needed to be to preserve the story, Muggles were being healed and memory-wiped, and this looked like it would be an operation of several days at the least. ‘I guess Santiago’s guys have no reason to poke down there, at least.’ 

‘They might,’ said Selena. ‘But not yet.’ 

Wordlessly they headed for the castle. That they’d been allowed to apparate in at all counted as their access pass for the control team, and their destination was nowhere the Statute had been threatened, so they could move freely. 

‘So,’ she said in a faltering voice as they walked the corridors towards the stairway to the tomb. ‘You jumped on a dragon’s back and climbed to its jaws to carve up magic words in its mouth.’ 

‘I know.’ Matt sighed. ‘It was stupid.’ 

_Yes._ ‘I was going to say impressive.’ 

He stopped at the door to the stairway and turned to her with a frown. ‘Now that’s unsettling.’ 

‘What? I can say nice things.’ 

‘You just usually say them under layers of sarcasm, or pointing out how incredibly foolish someone was at the same time.’ Matt hesitated. ‘Don’t get me wrong. People need to be called on how ridiculous they’re being. But that’s, like, your _job_.’ 

_Integral supporting role I_ _’ve got there._ Selena bit her lip. ‘Would it make a difference if I pointed out how _incredibly dangerous_ what you did was?’ Her voice was threatening to betray her, and she drew a slow, careful breath. _I will not let him see me crack._   
  
Matt’s frown deepened. ‘Does that usually stop you?’ 

She straightened. ‘I paid you a compliment, Doyle. I said it was impressive. Would you _prefer_ it if I laid into you?’ 

‘It’d be more _normal_.’ 

Something surged in her chest. ‘But it’d make no difference!’ _So much for hiding the cracks_. ‘You were so hell-bent on rushing off to play hero, and you will be again!’ 

Even though he’d all but invited her comment, he still took a step back, expression tensing. ‘That’s rich, coming from the girl who manipulated us into this mission in the first place. We wouldn’t even _be_ here, risking our necks, if it weren’t for you. So why am I getting snapped at for doing something dangerous but _important_? You’ve been looking like you want to shake me for the last three hours!’ 

‘I’m here to stop the Council.’ She fought to keep her voice level. ‘ _You_ are hungry to prove yourself, and it’s going to get you killed. You could have passed on what you knew to Albus or Scorpius. They were already in the air, it would have been easier for them to take action. But you didn’t. You ran off and did it on your own so we’d _all know_ this victory was brought about by Matthias Doyle. He doesn’t just read books, he kicks ass, too.’ 

Matt’s brow furrowed. ‘So it would have been _better_ if I’d made Albus or Scorpius risk their necks? That makes exactly no kind of sense.’ 

She turned her nose in the air. ‘We’re _all_ in this to stop the Council. We have to think about _winning_ , not about claiming these victories for ourselves. What you did was selfish.’ 

She went to sweep past him, make for the stairs, but he grabbed her elbow and pulled her around, expression tensing. ‘Run that by me again,’ he said in a low, hurt voice. ‘I apparated onto the back of a moving, flying target and shoved my head literally into the jaws of death because otherwise _people were going to die_. Run by me again how that’s _selfish_.’ 

‘ _Sorry_ ,’ she sneered, heart hammering in her chest, throat tightening. ‘Should I be showering you in adulation?’ 

‘No! It was more _terrifying_ than it was exciting, but I knew what I was supposed to do, so I did it. It wasn’t about being cheered. What makes that bad or selfish?’ 

She pulled her arm free, and he didn’t fight her. ‘I had to race into that wreckage,’ she said before she could stop herself, voice low and throaty, ‘and I didn’t know if I was going to find your _body_ in the middle of it.’ _Again_. 

But he hadn’t been there at the end of Phlegethon, and so didn’t make the connection, his brow knotting with confusion. ‘So I should have made you race in there afraid you’d find Albus’ body? Or Scorpius’?’ 

_I was. But it_ _’s not the same._ She turned to stalk down the steps into the gloom. ‘Never mind.’ 

He paused a moment to sputter, so she’d made it to the bottom of the stairs by the time he caught up, stood in the antechamber before the final doorway to the tomb. ‘No, Selena -’ 

Then a voice rolled out. ‘I can hear you. Footsteps in here are not quiet.’ 

They froze, then Matt drew a deep breath and stepped past her to approach the doorway. _Of course living history would distract him_ , Selena thought bitterly, even though she’d been trying to run from the topic in the first place. She followed him regardless, the two of them entering the tomb to see that tall, broad-shouldered, armoured figure stood before his own sarcophagus. 

‘So,’ Matt breathed. ‘You’re Reynald de Sablé. Apparently.’ His brow furrowed and he reached into his jacket to pull out the roll of leather-bound papers they’d been studying these past few days. ‘Where did you hide this in Ager Sanguinis?’ 

De Sablé gave a thin smile. ‘Behind the Veil Chamber. In a hidden room accessed through the stairs. Did you find the passage from that room which leads to the surface?’ 

‘I did not.’ Matt blinked. ‘So the Chalice _is_ real. _Really_ real, I mean, it really _does_ prolong your life.’ 

‘If you are worthy. I am informed you seek it.’ De Sablé looked at Selena. ‘While I saw that you stopped the guardian, prevented the chaos it might have wrought, you will forgive me if I am not inclined to give you answers simply because you ask.’ 

‘No, I - of course not.’ Matt’s voice had taken on a hushed edge. ‘But we’ve followed this trail to Paris, to your tomb in the Catacombs. We found where the Chalice _had_ been. We found Ager Sanguinis, we found where you’d kept the Chalice there, we found your _writing_ -’ 

‘All this means is that you hunt it. _Many_ would hunt it.’ 

Selena drew a slow breath. ‘We stopped Raskoph, we stopped that ritual -’ 

‘And their intentions were dark if they wanted that Guardian, and it does not surprise me that they want the Chalice also, but it takes more than facing darkness to be righteous. We are righteous by our actions, not righteous by being merely _better_ than our foes,’ de Sablé sneered. 

‘This isn’t the time for philosophy,’ said Matt. ‘I don’t know how we’re supposed to prove ourselves with nothing but words, anyway.’ 

‘Words,’ said de Sablé, ‘can be the most powerful magic of all.’ 

Matt straightened. ‘We seek the Chalice not for its power. Life and death? I _don_ _’t_ crave that control. I don’t crave eternal life. We are doing this to _stop_ those who would use it for dark means, would use it to power dark magic, would use it to _kill_. You can mistrust us all you like, but unless you know for sure that the Chalice is beyond the grasp of men, then you’re either going to have to trust us or take matters into your own hands to protect it.’ 

‘And you weren’t protecting it here, sleeping,’ pointed out Selena. ‘You weren’t even keeping the Council of Thorns from this Guardian.’ 

De Sablé scowled at that. ‘Their ritual did not disturb my rest. It seems they were careful to avoid triggering our protective wards, even if I doubt they knew what they would be.’ 

‘No, I think if they knew you were there, you’d be a guest of theirs by now. So, unless you had some _really masterful_ plan at work, you’re up against enemies you didn’t even know of, who would have grabbed you and would be looting your mind for information on your precious Chalice if it weren’t for us. You owe us one,’ said Matt. 

‘My duty is to the Templars,’ said de Sablé. ‘Not any perceived debt.’ 

‘Then you’re _failing_ your duty.’ 

In one heartbeat, everything changed. De Sablé wasn’t standing at the tomb, tall and impassive - he was grabbing Matt by the shirt and slamming him against the wall. Without thinking Selena swept behind him, wand levelled at the back of his skull. ‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you.’ 

Matt squirmed. ‘It’s fine,’ he croaked. ‘I’m making a point.’ 

‘Ineffectively.’ But de Sablé let go of him, face like thunder, and Selena lowered her wand. ‘You do not get to judge my duty.’ 

‘Do you have allies? Are there other Templars alive, out there protecting the Chalice? Because if not, you might want to _do_ something about that.’ Matt leaned against the wall, chest heaving. ‘I understand your apprehension. But we’re the good guys here. The Council of Thorns would use the Chalice to fuel a necromantic illness that turns the bodies of the living into Inferi. They’re trying to bring the _world_ to its knees using this. We’ve fought them, we’re opposed to them, we want to do the right thing. And I’ve studied your writing, I’ve studied the Templars. I have a little understanding of what you’re about in this. I don’t want to _use_ the Chalice. I want to keep it _safe_.’ 

De Sablé stared at him for a long moment, a muscle twitching in the corner of his jaw - then he turned around, stalked past Selena, and returned to the sarcophagus in the centre of the room. ‘Our resources are not what they were. But I thought that the Chalice was lost. I thought that was for the best.’ 

‘It might be. We don’t know where it is. _They_ don’t know where it is. But they knew enough to look here for the Guardian; we knew enough to look to Ager Sanguinis for clues. Trust us.’ Matt straightened. ‘Please.’ 

When de Sablé turned around, his expression was blank. ‘You swear.’ His voice was low, rumbling. ‘You swear by the Lord God, you swear by all that is holy and righteous, that you seek to protect the Chalice, not to use it.’ 

‘I swear it,’ said Matt, chin tilting up. ‘By all that is holy to me. By my friends, by my family.’ 

He looked at Selena, who tried to not roll her eyes. ‘You didn’t see him trying to _kill_ himself to stop that “Guardian”? Isn’t that enough?’ 

‘It’s why I have given you this chance to explain yourselves.’ 

But de Sablé still looked expectant. Selena’s lip curled. ‘I swear on the memory of Methuselah Jones, who _died_ to stop the Council of Thorns, that I seek to protect the Chalice, not use it. As if you have the bloody right to judge or question me, when you were _asleep_ while they worked right under your nose.’ 

Matt sighed. ‘Way to antagonise the guy whose help we want,’ he breathed. 

To her surprise, de Sablé smiled. ‘There is nothing wrong,’ he said softly, ‘with a little righteous anger.’ He straightened. ‘I am sorry for your loss.’ 

‘I don’t need you to be sorry.’ Selena tossed her hair back. ‘I need you to explain.’ 

He inclined his head. ‘I was born in Valois, France, in 1096. My father was a landed knight, but I was the youngest of four sons. It seemed certain that I was destined for a life in the church.’ He leaned against his own sarcophagus as if ignorant of irony. ‘And then it was discovered that I possessed magic. 

‘I was fortunate. One of my father’s allies was a wizard, and he knew the signs. I was taken under his wing to learn and to be safe, to be inducted into the magical community. For a time I served my liege as one of his wizarding advisers, bridging the two worlds, helping him defend our people against dark magic. Then came the formation of the Knights Templar. A holy order, yes, but one with many wizards in its ranks, united in its intention of protecting pilgrims of the Holy Land by steel - and by magic. 

‘I do not know for sure how the Chalice of Emrys fell into the hands of my compatriots. I was a wizard and knight of some rank in the order before I learnt of its existence, and after long service in the Holy Land and in France, I was given the great honour of becoming its bearer and its guardian. With the Chalice we could save men on the brink of death - and bring back those who had passed over. With it, we were mightier warriors in the service of God.’ 

Selena looked at Matt, and managed to not comment. But de Sablé spoke on. 

‘Being its guardian unsurprisingly brought risk, and within three years I had taken a wound on the field of battle so grievous that I _had_ to sip from it in order to survive. And again, and again, over ten years until I realised that in my fifties I looked much as I do now.’ He lifted a hand to his face, hard but not that heavily lined, worn but with vigour still. ‘For the Chalice blesses those who are that entwined with it, and time does not find them. For good, it would seem.’ 

‘And you brought it to Ager Sanguinis,’ Matt prompted. 

De Sablé looked vexed at the interruption. ‘It was a bloody and painful battle, and that land was seeped in dark magic from all the death and suffering. Even isolated as it was, we could not allow a site from which Cauchemars rose so brazenly to be left unsupervised - for the danger they brought, and because there is _power_ in such darkness. A power our enemies would not have hesitated to use.’ 

Selena looked again at Matt, whose lips were moving wordlessly at ‘Cauchemars’. Then he nodded. ‘Nightmares. Dementors. Fitting.’ 

‘The Fort was built, and the Veil constructed to harness those dark energies, to - as you would say - keep a lid on them. You have the results of my studies. I was unsure if I should leave behind a copy of my writing, but even if the Saracens found that place, I realised that if they were Godly enough to find my records then they were worthy of the knowledge.’ 

Matt looked like he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes, but de Sablé didn’t notice. ‘I gathered, with the sections in Arabic. It’s astonishing research on the nature of necromancy and matters like the Veil.’ 

‘The Veil held strong for all this time, then?’ 

‘There’s no evidence of anyone else having been there. If they were, they didn’t find or take your records.’ 

Selena cocked her head. ‘Then what happened?’ 

De Sablé sighed. ‘We lost the Holy Land. The Templars withdrew. And I returned with the Chalice to Paris. It had been our intention that we would lock the Chalice away, hide it until the time came that we would ride once more as warriors of God, not as bankers, men of money.’ His lip curled. ‘The tomb in the caves under the city was built for that purpose, and the Chalice kept there for some decades. When the time was right, I would rest with it.’ 

Matt quirked an eyebrow. ‘I thought you weren’t ageing.’ 

‘I was not. I do not. It seems five sips is what it takes before time is no longer my foe, or perhaps God recognised that I had guarded the Chalice with honour and would continue to do so.’ De Sablé shrugged. ‘I had no place wandering the world if I was to guard the Chalice. But it would be madness to stare at the walls of a chamber forever. There was a spell to place me in a deep slumber, awoken if disturbed, guarding the Chalice until it was threatened or until it was needed again.’ 

‘But then the Templars fell,’ Matt prompted. 

De Sablé nodded. ‘Betrayal from the Church. No great surprise. There was resentment in their ranks for the heavy presence of wizardry, and jealousy of the wealth and power we had gathered. Many of my fellows were arrested, and it seemed likely that the Church or the king’s men would learn of the Chalice and try to claim it for themselves.’ 

Selena’s expression cleared. ‘So you made the fake.’ 

‘Indeed. A duplicate was made to rest in the tomb, and I brought the relic with me here, to Portugal, where we were safe from Papal hands.’ 

‘Then where is it?’ 

De Sablé winced. ‘Not here.’ 

‘That’s an ominously vague answer.’ 

‘There were many who wanted the Chalice. Those chasing me from Paris, others in the new order who craved it for themselves. It was not safe by my side, and I suspected it was not safe in Europe. And so I entrusted it to two of my fellows from the Templars, young wizards, who would take it across the sea, to distant lands.’ 

Matt brightened up. ‘The New World?’ 

‘Before the Laymen knew of it. Wizards could travel such distances, of course, and I thought it would be safest if no Laymen would find it. They took their ships empowered by spells across the ocean, seeking a resting site and…’ He looked away, his brow furrowing. ‘Disappeared.’ 

‘That was a good idea,’ said Selena flatly. 

De Sablé scowled more. ‘I thought it for the best, truth be told. If the Chalice was needed, those of a righteous heart would find it. But my superiors in the Order of Christ disagreed. When the first Laymen expeditions west began, they made sure that old Templar wizards were amongst them, seeking that island.’ 

Matt laughed before he could stop himself. ‘Oh, you’re kidding me.’ He bit his lip at the curious and accusing looks. ‘No, seriously - that old story about how Columbus’ navigators were Templars?’ 

‘Yes,’ said de Sablé, obviously not seeing the humour. ‘They were there to look for the Chalice, and those who had taken it. But they found nothing. And I waited here, even as our order withered, even as the magical world faded more from the world of those we were supposed to _protect_.’ His jaw tightened. ‘It was some centuries later before the wizards asking for my aid in finding the Chalice seemed worthy. Then I _did_ give them guidance, and they set across the ocean to seek the island, and the Chalice. They sent us word, they seemed close to finding it, but then… then they disappeared, too.’ 

Matt’s brow furrowed. ‘That’s less promising. They found where the Chalice was and then promptly went missing?’ 

‘Indeed,’ said de Sablé. ‘And if I must be honest, I took that as a sign. The Chalice went across the ocean, and then it was lost. If so many have sought it and failed, then it is God’s will that it not be found.’ 

‘While I’m not necessarily opposed to something _this_ many people are dying for staying hidden,’ said Matt, ‘I don’t think the Council of Thorns care about God’s will.’ 

‘Perhaps not.’ De Sablé ground his teeth together. ‘Very well. I have trusted you this far. There are many documents I have kept, further writing from the planning of the expedition west, the messages from that third expedition which found _something_ before they went missing.’ 

‘Whereabouts was this?’ said Selena. 

‘The islands they call the Bahamas.’ 

‘Makes sense,’ said Matt. ‘If Columbus’ first expedition was guided by people looking for it. That’s where he first made landfall.’ Then he raised an eyebrow. ‘What about the golems?’ 

‘What of them?’ 

‘Why was one _here_? Why have the Templars so _extensively_ used magic of Judaic origin? In so many hidden and secure places, places where _you_ hid the Chalice, there have been golem guardians.’ 

‘It _is_ magic of Outremar,’ de Sablé agreed. ‘Powerful magic, _tremendous_ magic. Not to make constructs; any wizard can do that, even if constructs which are eternal and strong and self-sufficient are useful. But what is so valuable is their immunity to magic _itself_. It was this magic which the Templars found at Jerusalem -’ 

‘You’re _shitting_ me.’ Matt grinned. ‘Golems. _That_ was the secret the Templars found under Temple Rock in Jerusalem? _That_ is the great Templar mystery?’ 

‘Indeed,’ said de Sablé, impassive. ‘And it was one of the reasons the Church feared us so much. Wizards were everywhere in those days. But if the Templars had a weapon immune to magic, then our enemies had, indeed, reason to be afraid. We had not mastered the magics enough to use them as more than guards; we could not field armies of golems to retake the Holy Land. This was not magic I researched, but some of my fellows were experts. They fled from Paris with me to come here, and the dragon guardian of Tomar was their greatest achievement. It protected this land against the invasions from the south, but it seems their work was lost to the ages, also.’ 

‘It has been,’ said Matt, though he couldn’t stop smiling. ‘That’s amazing. That’s really _amazing_.’ 

‘Amazing though it is,’ said Selena, ‘we could do with those documents if we’re still going after the Chalice. Because that’s a lead the Council of Thorns don’t have, and we need to get a head-start on them. Before they find out from somewhere else.’ 

‘They are secure,’ said de Sablé. ‘I will fetch them.’ He paused. ‘What do you intend to do with the Chalice once you find it, once it is safe from harm?’ 

‘I don’t know,’ admitted Matt. ‘There are people, researchers who would want it. I’m tempted to have it understood, but this thing’s already been a tremendous amount of trouble.’ 

‘It has. However.’ De Sablé’s lips thinned. ‘I believe that it was meant to be lost. Which means that, if you find it, then it was meant to be found. There is great horror in the Chalice, but righteousness too, in the correct hands.’ 

Then he advanced on Matt, slowly this time, and reached out to nudge back his jacket, resting his hand on the pommel of the Templar sword from Badenheim. ‘The warriors before you who wielded these swords did the impossible. We achieve nothing mighty through fear. Do not shy from God’s work if the chance is before you.’ 

Selena watched them; watched Matt’s expression grow more stern, more serious, and she didn’t know if she found this laughable, horrifying, or sobering. This _was_ a Knight Templar, a wizard almost a thousand years old, and destined to live perhaps a thousand more. An ancient magical artifact was on the line, and they faced enemies who would use it to end or ruin hundreds, thousands of lives if given the chance. If ever there was a time to put their deeds before their own safety, it was now. 

Matt gave a slow, honest nod. ‘I won’t.’ 

And Selena’s heart and gut knotted at the knowledge that he was telling the truth. Even if it killed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The golem lore which Matt speaks of is in-keeping with the mythological origins of the golems. Words of power were placed in their mouth, and their alteration or destruction would bring about the de-powering of the golems. This would have been hypothetically possible with the humanoid golems, just none of them wanted to try shoving their hands down their throats. Much of what de Sablé has to say is derived from historical fact, minus, of course, anything to do with the Chalice of Emrys. The involvement of Templars in Columbus’ expedition is one of those old conspiracy myths, and comes mostly from the presence of the Order’s cross on the sails of his ships._


	37. Mercurial Matters

‘Oh, good,’ said Selena when she saw the view from the balcony of her hotel room in Lisbon. ‘I was getting so sick of the tent. It’s time for a bit of luxury.’ In truth, her heart was in her throat at the sight of sunbathed oceans stretching out beyond the window. ‘There better be a mini-bar.’ 

Then Lillian Rourke slammed the door behind her, and remembering Methuselah was suddenly not as important as the reminder her mother was _angry_. ‘I can’t believe you.’ 

‘No, seriously.’ She turned. ‘I’ve not had a nice drink since Kythos, and that’s stretching the definition of “nice drink” to include scrounging ouzo. I want someone to _bring_ me a drink. With a little umbrella in it.’ Her mother’s expression didn’t change, but Selena held her ground. This was how arguments with Rourke women went. Who could be the most stubborn the longest. 

‘You stole from me.’ 

‘ _Technically_ I stole from the _government_. You’re not the government. Yet.’ 

‘You stole government property on my watch and then dragged your friends across the world to almost _die_. It was stupid and it was risky -’ 

‘And this year I was trapped in Hogwarts, saw a little boy die, saw my boyfriend die, fought dark wizards and Dementors and took part in a procedure to alter and down-power a lethal ritual.’ Selena went to the mini-bar and cracked it open. ‘Ooh, gin.’ 

‘Selena!’ 

‘Mum!’ She straightened. ‘I’m not sorry. I did what I had to do. I did what was right. Your Convocation wasn’t catching Prometheus Thane, and he’s been running around doing something exceptionally dangerous. If it weren’t for us, the Council of Thorns would be _way_ more powerful by now.’ 

‘I am going to _change_ the International Convocation,’ said Lillian, jaw setting. ‘We are going to destroy the Council of Thorns. We are going to destroy Prometheus Thane, and Joachim Raskoph, and all their ilk. You don’t need to take matters into your own hands any more.’ 

‘There’s got to be a glass here somewhere,’ mused Selena, grabbing the tiny can of tonic to go with the tiny bottle of gin, and stomped about the room. ‘I can’t just pour these down my throat at the same time.’ 

‘Are you listening to me?’ 

‘Not at all!’ Selena disappeared into the bathroom and came out with the glass tumbler from the sink. ‘This isn’t exactly classy, but it’ll do.’ 

‘Selena -’ 

‘There will _always_ be a need for people to take matters into their own hands, Mum.’ Selena stalked to the table. ‘The Council of Thorns has infiltrated the highest levels of the British government, and if you think they haven’t infiltrated the Convocation then you’re an idiot. Of course you’re going to change this, of course you’re going to make this better, but that will take time, and one thing we don’t have is time. Now. We have a much more serious problem.’ She turned to her mother, sombre. ‘There’s no ice.’ 

Then her mother was by her side, grabbing her elbow. ‘You have to listento me, Selena - I know you’ve lost a lot, suffered a lot, and I know you feel helpless -’ 

‘Not any more.’ Selena pulled back. ‘I felt helpless at home, sat in tea shops with my friends, pretending I wasn’t grieving and doing _nothing_. Yes, I’m out here; yes, I’m risking my neck, but at least I am _doing_ something. At least I am making a difference!’ 

‘You are looking to get yourself killed.’ 

‘Wrong again.’ Selena unscrewed the gin bottle and poured it into the tumbler. ‘I’ve seen death. I’ve looked death in the face, and I chose to _live_. But I chose that because there’s still stuff to do.’ 

‘Thane and Raskoph are bad news. You’re not even fully-qualified witches and wizards. I know you’ve done _well_ , but I just got you back. Now I’m going to spend every day terrified something else will happen.’ 

‘And it might. If there’s one thing I saw today, it’s that anything _can_ still happen to any of us, at any time, for any reason.’ She cracked open the can of tonic and tried to not think about the sight of the spiralling, tumbling golem-dragon, with Scorpius and Matt trapped atop or _in_ it. 

‘You have to come home _._ ’ Lillian straightened. ‘If you want to make a difference, I can find you work. In my office, in the Convocation, something which is helping.’ 

‘Yes. I can save the world by filing paper.’ 

‘Better than getting yourself killed with this childish delusion that one person _can_ save the world!’ 

‘I’m not one person.’ Selena sipped her drink and made a face. ‘We’re a team.’ 

Lillian Rourke stared at her, then drew a slow breath. ‘You’re too young to know what you’re doing.’ 

‘Wrong. I might be _alive_ , but more than Tim Warwick and Methuselah Jones died at Hogwarts. To be all melodramatic about it, our childhoods died.’ 

‘I know you’re hurting at losing Methuselah, dear, but punishing Thane won’t bring him back. Nothing will.’ Her mother’s lips thinned. ‘Why are you _doing_ this? It’s not just to do the right thing; you’re convinced you have to do it yourself. And vengeance is no reason to get yourself killed.’ 

Another sip of tepid gin and tonic. Today really had gone to the dogs. Selena shrugged. ‘Maybe I inherited your sense of civic duty. Mum, this isn’t up for debate. And you can try to use your power to stop me, but I _bet_ that the Weasley-Granger-Potter conglomerate will be on Albus and Rose’s side, which means trying to stop _me_ will mean trying to stop _them_ , and you have better things to do than have that political fight!’ 

‘I do _not_ have better things to do than keep you safe. You have to -’ 

She slammed the glass down. ‘I don’t _have_ to do _anything_. I do what I _choose_ , and yes, what I choose is dangerous, but I’m an adult and I have enough experience to _know_ what I’m getting myself into. I am carrying on. This is not up for debate. There are only two things you can do to help me, and one of them is to get out of my way.’ She frowned at the drink. ‘The other is to tell me where the hell I can get ice and lemon in this place.’ 

‘Selena -’ 

She snapped her fingers. ‘Right. The bar. _Goodbye_ , Mum. I’ll see you before we board the boat.’ And without another word she stalked past her mother and stormed for the hotel room door, ignoring the echoing in her ears of the question that hadn’t been answered in and amongst all the shouting. 

_Why are you even doing this._

* * 

‘The Bahamas.’ Ron Weasley turned away from the balcony to sigh at his wife. ‘That blows the New Forest out of the water.’ 

‘You are doing a terrible job of disapproving, Ron,’ said Hermione, sat before the stack of folders the sea breeze threatened to pull off the table. 

‘I’m not disapproving. Because that’d make me a hypocrite.’ Ron winked at Rose, who suppressed a smile. ‘Seriously, we did worse in our day.’ 

‘They broke into the Rabbit’s Foot Casino -’ 

‘Which is cool.’ 

‘Ron!’ 

Rose lifted her hands as her parents mock-glowered at each other. ‘I’m sorry. But I can’t come home yet. This isn’t over, and I have to finish what I started. I know you understand.’ 

Hermione gave her a look. ‘I really wish you wouldn’t use our experiences against us. I don’t mean that it’s inconvenient. I mean that it was _different_ for us.’ 

‘No, it wasn’t. It was different for Uncle Harry. Youhad a _choice_ , both of you, and you chose to stick by him.’ 

‘That wasn’t a choice,’ said Hermione. 

‘And neither’s what I’m doing.’ 

Ron laughed, breaking the ice and winning another glare from his wife. He shrugged and pulled up a chair to sit next to his daughter. ‘Nobody was going to talk us out of this twenty-five years ago, Hermione.’ 

‘I don’t get how you’re so calm -’ 

‘I’m not.’ He put his arm around Rose, and she was startled by how iron-tight his hold was. ‘I’d love Rosie to come home with us, to worry about nothing more than school and boys who aren’t Scorpius Malfoy. But it’s been drummed into me that fathers almost _never_ get what they want for their daughters.’ 

Rose looked up at him, eyes shining. ‘I’m sorry, Dad. I really, really didn’t want to hurt you.’ 

He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. ‘I know, Rosie. And I trust you. You’ve got your mother’s brains, after all.’ 

‘No,’ said Hermione, expression softening as she watched them both. ‘She’s got her own brains. Fine.’ A file was plucked from the stack, and slid across the table. ‘There are several transport options for getting to the Bahamas. Do as you like, but I’m planning on scheduling you a few Portkey tickets to other locations, muddy the trail. I know it’s best if we limit how much information comes back to us, to Britain, though even if you can’t tell us where you _are_ , I would appreciate regular updates to be sure you’re _all right_.’ 

‘I can manage that much.’ Rose’s lips thinned. ‘I wish I could explain it better, but… I have to do this, Mum, Dad. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve hurt you and that I’m just going to run off again, but I - but this needs doing. I can’t come this far and then stop.’ She hesitated. ‘Did you manage to figure out why you did it? More than for Harry?’ 

‘It _was_ for Harry,’ Ron sighed. 

‘But you’re still an Auror. You fought a war and you still go out and fight bad guys.’ 

‘These days I fight the evils of bureaucracy. But you’re right. Ask me to explain in one sentence why I still do this and… well, I guess it’s what I do?’ Ron’s brow furrowed. ‘Which is a shoddy answer.’ 

‘And yet it’s the only one there is,’ said Hermione, gaze dropping. 

‘How’s everything been going with Eridanos?’ Rose asked. 

‘Actually rather well.’ Her mother looked troubled, rather than reassured. ‘We’ve been destroying every pocket of it, and it’s popping up less and less. From intelligence gathered from prisoners, it looks like they made it from one huge ritual somewhere in Central America, and deposited it in containment crystals which their agents could use to unleash it on certain places. But we found the ritual and dismantled it, so our experts are suspecting there’s a finite amount of Eridanos _left_ in the world. The more pockets we wipe out, the more containment crystals we seize, the less the virus is out there.’ 

‘It worksdifferently to Phlegethon, then.’ 

‘Phlegethon was inefficient. But I think that to be more powerful, more fast-acting and non-reliant upon an infecting ritual at every site, the limitations upon _how_ to create a strand of Eridanos were more strict.’ 

‘It’s at least a victory in the making,’ said Ron. 

‘I’ll take it.’ Rose suppressed a shudder. ‘I don’t want to think too much about a more fast-acting version of Phlegethon.’ 

‘It’s not pleasant. But we’re on top of it.’ Hermione patted the file she’d slid across the table. ‘That’s got everything we’ve found on Raskoph and Thane’s movements. I appreciate they might know what we know, but it’s all I can do. Oh. And one more thing.’ She pulled out another file. ‘This is everything I could get on Lisa Delacroix.’ 

Rose stared at that one. ‘Does she check out?’ 

‘It took some time. Paris weren’t cooperative, seeing as she’s from a company which offers security for high-profile individuals. Unsurprisingly they weren’t that keen to share their secrets. But then Lillian leaned on her contacts and this came through.’ Hermione flipped it open. ‘You can take a look for yourself. It’s a bit messy. But, yes. She checks out.’ 

Gingerly, Rose reached for the file, and wondered if this was better or worse than looting Lisa’s brain with Legilimency without her permission. ‘Thanks. I think.’ 

‘I don’t know what more I can give you, going forward,’ admitted Hermione. ‘Especially if I’m trying to hide information from my own office. I intend to infer to them that you’ve moved on to Africa.’ 

Ron shifted. ‘I’d rather we could still get in touch with each other, though. Even if it’s just _you_ getting in touch with _us_.’ 

‘The Patronus was traced on my end. But it’s less likely to be traced on _yours_.’ 

Rose frowned. ‘I don’t know how to send my Patronus as a messenger.’ 

Her parents exchanged glances, and Hermione pulled out her wand. ‘Well,’ said her mother. ‘Seems we’ve got a job for the next little while, then.’

* * 

James had stayed quiet during the Potter reunion. There had been tears and upset, laughter and relief, and tense, tense debates of the days ahead. But Albus knew his parents, and they knew him. This wasn’t over, and so all they could do was make the most of the time they had. 

Even Lily had left the room with Harry and Ginny when they were done, Albus still worn and battered after the fighting, but his brother waited near the door, shut it behind the rest of the family, and turned with a face like thunder. ‘You need to _stop_ trying to play hero.’ 

Albus, sat in an armchair, blinked. ‘I’m not playing at anything, Jim -’ 

‘No, you’re trying to get yourself killed. Again.’ James stalked to the middle of the room. ‘Do you _know_ what you did? How much you hurt Dad? How much you hurt _Mum_?’ 

Albus looked down. ‘It couldn’t be helped.’ 

‘Yes, it could! You could have come _home_ , Al, you could have told us, “Hey, I’m actually _not dead_ ” -’ 

‘It’s not that simple -’ 

‘Yes, it is!’ James clenched his fists. ‘They spent the last six months _freaking out_ over Hogwarts, over Lily being infected and you running around in a hot-spot of danger, and once you’re out, what do you do? Run away _again_ , right into danger. We thought you were _dead_!’ 

Albus grimaced and pushed himself to his feet. ‘What am I supposed to do?’ 

‘Come _home_. Stay _safe_. Stop shoving yourself into danger you don’t have to. You’re not _Dad_.’ 

A scowl. ‘I know _that_ much. I’m not doing this to try to be Dad.’ 

‘Then you’re trying to wriggle out from under his shadow!’ 

‘You don’t understand. It’s not like that. You _can_ _’t_ understand.’ 

‘Why.’ James’ voice was flat as he put his hands on his hips. ‘Because I’ve not flying head-butted Death in the face, I don’t get what this is like? I know, I know, you fought mercs, you disabled a ritual, you just killed a _dragon_ today -’ 

‘I did.’ Albus straightened, speaking firmly but without pride. ‘And yes, that _does_ give a different perspective. I’ve come too far to give up now. We’ve _all_ come too far to give up.’ 

‘So you’re just going to go. Go away, again, let Dad draw away from Mum some more…’ 

Albus flinched. ‘Don’t do this, Jim…’ 

‘…let Lily work herself into this mixture of hero-worship and fear, let _me_ be the one who has to take care of _everyone_ -’ 

‘I’m not responsible for Mum and Dad!’ Albus shouted at last, something bursting in his gut. 

‘But you _are_ responsible for the fate of the bloody world? Explain _that_ one to me, little brother - explain how the wellbeing of your family _isn_ _’t_ your responsibility, but the wellbeing of people you’ve never _met_ is.’ 

Albus looked away, arms folding across his chest as James’ accusation echoed about the tiny room. When he spoke, his voice was low, hoarse. ‘Was it that bad?’ 

‘It’s _been_ that bad since September,’ said James, jaw clenched. ‘Dad runs to Ron and Hermione. Mum worries and runs to family, _sometimes_ , and the rest of the time it’s _me_. Me to make her feel better, me to keep the press at bay, to keep Dad’s coworkers at bay. Me to make _everyone_ believe the Potter family is one happy, united front, because what the hell do you _think_ would happen if the wide world got a whiff of that?’ 

‘I can’t stop this.’ Albus ran a hand through his hair. ‘I can’t just come home. If nothing else, the _others_ won’t, and I’m not leaving _them_.’ 

‘But you’ll leave our family?’ 

‘Don’t give me that, Jim.’ At last he glared at his brother. ‘Don’t give me this, “I’m the model son,” stuff. _You_ _’re_ the one who kept landing in the press with _this_ scandal or _that_ girl or _another_ drunken debacle -’ 

‘I didn’t go looking for the press to hound me with -’ 

‘But they were going to hound you anyway! Because we’re Harry Potter’s sons! That’s the _legacy_! And you didn’t care about the pressure it put on them both, how it made Dad look, how it made Mum worry, how it made it _harder_ for Lily and me to dodge questions! The press was out there sniffing for stories, and you were _all_ too eager to give them!’ Albus clenched his jaw. ‘You’ve been making life harder for this family _long_ before I started. At least _mine_ is for a good bloody reason!’ 

James looked away at that, eyes blazing. They didn’t look much like brothers - Albus was broad, dark-haired, green-eyed, while James was willowy, brown-eyed, his hair a dark, coppery red. But when they argued, when they were angry, they shared their father’s temper. Not like their mother’s easily-sparked flames which died as quickly as they came, but something slower-burning, a smoldering inferno which blazed all the hotter. 

It was the most they had in common. 

‘They won’t ask you to come home, because they think they should be supportive and they’re projecting their damned issues all over you,’ said James at last. ‘But it’s what they want, and they’ll hate themselves for not asking you. Because if they just asked, you’d be so keen to please them you’d do it, wouldn’t you?’ 

Albus’ expression set. ‘Once, maybe. But I’m not doing this for them. I can’t come home, Jim. I have to do this.’ 

‘Great.’ James turned away. ‘Then I guess this is goodbye, little brother. You better hope there’s a Potter family for you to come home to.’ 

Albus’ gut twisted as his brother reached the door. ‘James -’ 

But he didn’t stop, didn’t look back, and then he was gone.

* * 

‘So where’s this de Sablé fellow now?’ 

‘He wanted to leave and we weren’t about to stop him. I’m not sure we _could_. He seemed rattled by… he accepted he had to trust us because it was clear the Council are after the Chalice and the Council are trouble, but he didn’t like it. He seems to think there are people out in the world still affiliated with the Templars, and that if people are going after Templar interests it’s time they had a reunion. I just don’t know where he’s going or what he plans other than that. But. There’s a reason I wanted us to talk. Just me and you.’ Matt looked at his father. ‘I could do with a spot of honesty.’ 

Gabriel Doyle looked across the coffee table in the hotel room, gaze guarded. ‘Go on.’ 

‘I met Alfonse Guerrier. He called you an information broker. So, not just a businessman.’ 

His father sighed. ‘That wasn’t so much a secret as - all right, it was a secret. It _is_ a secret. It’s not something you can’t know, it’s just something there was never any reason to tell you.’ 

‘Now might be a good time?’ 

Gabriel tensed. ‘Don’t look at me like - it’s not like that. Yes, I’m in the business of making everyone _else_ _’s_ business _my_ business. Corporate issues, political issues… yes, criminal issues. After the war, I wanted to be able to use my abilities as a Seer for something good. Keeping tabs on bad things so good people could act on it. Though for _most_ of the last ten years I’ve not done much. It was peaceful.’ 

‘Criminal issues.’ Matt paused. ‘Like the Council?’ 

‘I don’t _work_ with the Council,’ said Gabriel. ‘I have been using my considerable resources to try to help the International Convocation _fight_ the Council. I funded an operation to Peru last year when we heard Thane was behind Phlegethon, to see if we could trace anything. I had agents in Egypt looking into the reagent smuggling that went down to prep for the Phlegethon ritual. If I’d known you were going away to do this, I’d…’ 

‘Have stopped me?’ 

‘Helped you.’ 

‘Then what do you know about the Council? We worried they’d infiltrated the Ministry -’ 

‘They have. I don’t know where, but too much information on Ministerial operations leaks out. They’ll have their infiltrators in the Convocation, too.’ 

‘Scorpius suspects his father.’ 

Gabriel’s expression pinched. ‘Draco Malfoy is bad news. Draco Malfoy has been bad news his whole life.’ 

‘We know about the bounty.’ 

‘The Council is not, from all we have gathered, one united entity. It’s too big to be, too international. There are different factions with different wishes, and some of them were reportedly irate at you being… killed.’ Gabriel flinched. ‘It was from those corners, and the criminal underworld, that the reports came Malfoy would pay a significant amount of money for your killers.’ 

‘Do you think he could be in the Council, in one of the factions which didn’t want us dead?’ 

‘I’ll tell you what I _know_.’ Gabriel put down his tea. ‘I know that when Phlegethon struck, Draco Malfoy slunk out of the public eye entirely. I know that when Eridanos began to strike across the world, it has _always_ struck somewhere the Malfoy Company has business interests. On the one hand, that’s a lot of the world. On the other, the timing has often come after significant shipments of magical equipment have come into Malfoy-owned properties. There’s a lot of uncertainty on how the Council is getting this array of magic goods past government inspections, and when it doesn’t look like corrupt governments, it looks like smugglers who know what they’re doing. And it’s far, far easier to smuggle in illicit goods under a veneer of _respectability._ ’ 

‘You think he’s been smuggling Council agents and their equipment into Eridanos strike spots?’ 

‘Nothing I can prove. And the way I gather my information doesn’t stand up in a court of law anyway. It’s harder to trace with Eridanos on the back foot - which is good, don’t get me wrong, but it makes the likelihood of collaring Malfoy slimmer.’ 

‘So you have been watching him.’ Matt frowned. ‘Keep it up.’ 

‘I will.’ His father hesitated. ‘There was never a reason to mention this to my children. Especially when it was something that was more relevant to my life during the war and after. You had to know I was a Seer because I _sometimes_ have a vision, but in truth I haven’t had one in five years. Not even during Phlegethon, not even when I meditated.’ 

‘You said you could bring them on. That’s not worked?’ 

‘Bringing them on was never exact. But it’s odd that I can’t do it right now. It came reasonably easy during the war. There was… lots to see. For good or ill.’ Gabriel’s lips thinned. ‘It’s possible that Phlegethon, Eridanos, the Council meddling with death magics, has somehow interfered; I don’t know. But I can’t count on it like I used to.’ 

Matt looked at his hands. ‘This isn’t over,’ he said quietly. ‘There’s more to do, more to chase. And I have to see this through - I’m the one who’s done the research, they need me. It’s like I _can_ do it, so I should, but that feels crazy.’ He raised his gaze. ‘You fought in Mum’s unit in the war. Why?’ 

‘“Unit” is a fancy word for it,’ said Gabriel wryly. ‘Merry band of pompous Gryffindors was another -’ 

‘That’s five words, and _I_ _’m_ a Gryffindor.’ 

‘Which means you’ve got your mother’s pig-headed idealism, and that makes me love her so it’s no bad thing.’ He sobered slowly. ‘I didn’t fight a war for ideals and causes. I fought a war for my friends. If the war hadn’t touched them I probably would have steered clear of it, and I’m ashamed of my eighteen year-old self for having that mentality.’ 

‘For wanting to fight for your friends?’ 

‘For _only_ wanting to fight for my friends. I was…’ Gabriel’s voice trailed off. ‘You’re not me, and I thank the stars for that. You’ve got a better heart. But I couldn’t talk with your grandfather about what I was doing, or your uncle. It was my wish that you would live in a more peaceful time. But you can’t, and I am, at the end of the day, a pragmatist. 

‘I’m not Hermione Granger. I’m not Lillian Rourke. They have always stayed on the straight and narrow, and it’s got them spies in their midst. I assure you that the vetting procedures I run on the people who work for me are more thorough, because I do not _have_ to be fair, and nice, and even. I have done what I can, what I must, when I must. If I can’t make these more peaceful times for you, I can make sure you live through them.’ He reached into his jacket and pulled out a business card. ‘If you need me, I’m there. No questions. No judgements. No parental disapproval. Use this, and ask me.’ 

Matt took the card. It was rectangular and white and just had the black logo of his father’s company on it, along with his name. His brow furrowed. ‘How does it work?’

* * 

From a train, to a tent, to a cell, to a fancy hotel. Scorpius couldn’t complain about the end of his day. Especially as he wasn’t paying for the hotel. Nor had he paid for the cell, admittedly, but the swankiest magical hotel in Lisbon was something even his bank account balked at. Coming back from the dead had its advantages, and the advantages today were that the Ministry of Magic footed the bill for all of the tearful reunions no doubt going on upstairs. 

So he’d gone to the bar. Bought a beer and sat in the early evening moonlight that dazzled him through the windows, reflecting off the chrome plating and shiny, modern fixtures. Pretended to focus on the papers in front of him for booking Portkeys, chartering ships. But there was only so much he could do with it all, until… 

‘I see you have no heartfelt family reunions.’ 

He looked up to see Lisa stood at the table. Something had happened to her today, too - she had gone from tightly-coiled and ready to explode to, somehow, awkward. Like she was unsure of her place, unsure of where to even put her feet. Somehow that was reassuring. He nudged the chair opposite him back with a foot. ‘Neither do you.’ 

‘No. But my name’s not been plastered all over the evening edition of the press.’ Lisa pulled a folded paper from inside her jacket and slid it across the table to him. 

Scorpius’ eyes widened, snatching up the _Daily Prophet_. _‘Five Alive_. Oh, that’s witty. Wait. “ _The Hogwarts Five have been found alive and well after foiling a Council of Thorns attack on Tomar, Portugal. Earlier today, magical authorities raced to the historic town to answer reports of a stone dragon devastating the area, only to find it had already been destroyed and its wizard-handlers incapacitated by the previously presumed-dead saviours of Hogwarts._ ” I guess you don’t get a credit.’ 

‘I guess not.’ Lisa did not look at all put-out by this. ‘Congratulations. Hero.’ 

‘You’re pretty sardonic when you get going.’ 

‘Of course I am. I’m not getting attention, and I prefer it.’ 

‘I would prefer it. But it beats being famous for the name.’ Scorpius tossed the paper down with a sigh. ‘I reckon I owe you a drink.’ 

‘Why, exactly?’ 

‘Today. You saved Albus and me from Thane. With _exquisite_ timing; I really can appreciate a good entrance.’ 

‘We’re a team.’ 

‘No. _We_ _’re_ a team, and you’re sort of… hanging around to get the job done, and only taking Albus remotely seriously.’ He flipped the paper shut. ‘Until today.’ 

Awkward, she raised her gaze. ‘I thought I was that, yes. But today I found myself not thinking. Just fighting. Backing up Selena, Matt, Rose. Racing after you two. I have survived as long as I have on instinct, and today my instincts told me to fight _with_ you. Not just on the same side as you.’ 

Scorpius snorted, but lifted a hand. ‘Sorry. That wasn’t disbelief. You just say you’ve survived “as long” as you have - you’re, what, a year older than me? Two?’ She just grimaced, and silence fell again. He frowned at his drink. ‘So how do you cope with it?’ 

‘Killing?’ 

_Of course she knew. I wouldn_ _’t have asked if I didn’t know she knew._ He swallowed, throat dry. ‘Yeah.’ 

‘Someone’s going to tell you that you did the right thing at Ager Sanguinis. That it saved Matt, that this was a “bad guy”. Maybe they’re right. I don’t know. I’m not so good on “right” things. Just necessary things.’ Lisa met his gaze, eyes dark but firm. ‘Every side in a war believes something. But when you’re in trouble, when you’re in the middle of a fight, when it’s magic of blood and bone and guts, nobody cares about their _cause._ You care about winning, saving your own neck, maybe saving the neck of the person next to you. So then it comes down to killing. Fighting for your beliefs means danger and death, and if you don’t accept that, if you don’t _embrace_ that, then you’ll lose and you’ll die.’ 

Scorpius watched her for a long moment. ‘That’s psychotic.’ 

‘Am I wrong?’ 

He looked away. ‘I don’t know. I do know the cause matters.’ 

‘I’m not saying it doesn’t. I’m saying that causes must be fought for, and fights aren’t won by the person who _believes_ the most, they’re won by the person who wants to _live_ the most. And living, very often… demands killing. If you know the cause matters, then you know you’re right to kill for it.’ 

Scorpius drew a deep breath. ‘That’s _a_ way to look at it. Except it sounds like a great way to become a monster, too.’ She didn’t answer. And just as he was trying to figure out how to change the subject or answer his own fear, the bar door swung open. He swore under his breath. ‘Speak of the devil.’ 

_This was inevitable._   
  
For some reason, he was relieved Lisa was the one with him. She was backup, he didn’t care much for what she thought of him, and she might not even stop him if he pulled his wand. Which was always a temptation when he spoke to his father. 

Draco Malfoy looked cool and collected in professional robes, his hair swept back and expression controlled as he approached, and it was all Scorpius could do to mirror him. He was still scratched and worn, hair messy, clothes battered, but there was a shred of the Malfoy poise within him, and he knew that he had to fight fire with fire. 

‘I came as soon as I heard,’ said Draco, and Scorpius’s heart sank. 

‘Really? Hermione Granger didn’t tell you?’ He snatched up the folded newspaper. Malfoy poise hadn’t lasted. ‘The _Daily Prophet_ managed to write and publish an article since it went down, and _this_ is the fastest you could get here?’ 

‘I was caught up in -’ 

‘Then you came as soon as it was _convenient._ That’s not as soon as you heard.’ 

Silence fell across the hotel bar, quiet at this time of the evening, and Lisa intently studied the window as the two Malfoy men stared at each other, Scorpius’ gaze accusing, Draco’s tense and defensive. Finally, his father drew a slow, steady breath. ‘I had to see you. You’re -’ 

‘Why, so you can call off that _bounty_ you put on my killers?’ Scorpius’ eyes flashed. ‘Yeah. I found out about that. Couldn’t stand someone hurting the family? Undermining the name “Malfoy”?’ 

Draco’s jaw tensed. ‘I didn’t come here to fight, Scorpius. I thought you were _dead_.’ 

He moved suddenly, and if he were any other father, Scorpius would have assumed he was going for an embrace. But his father didn’t hug, didn’t make overt demonstrations of affection; that wasn’t the Malfoy way. So he stepped back, lip curling. ‘I’m not. I survived. Congratulations, you don’t have to hunt down some poor Black cousin to make your heir.’ 

‘I don’t -’ 

‘There is only _one_ thing I want from you.’ Scorpius squared his shoulders. ‘And I know you’ve got it with you, Draco, because I know _you_. I need the paperwork to prove I’m _not_ dead.’ 

Draco stared at him, as stunned by the request as he was by the abandonment of any familial endearments. ‘The paperwork - what, so you can continue to squander your money on this ridiculous international jaunt, pretending to be a hero?’ 

_There it is._ Scorpius fought his quiet, unsurprised smile at the dismissive, perplexed tone in his father’s voice. ‘I don’t think you get to judge what I do with my own money.’ 

‘I think I’m your father and I can do as is _necessary_ for the good of the family. Which includes you coming _home_. If I have to cut off your funds in order to do that -’ 

‘You can’t cut off the funds - that money is _mine_ , by all legal and moral rights -’ 

‘ _Moral_ rights? That money was made, for good or ill, by me, your grandfather, your great-grandfather - Malfoy men you have tried to distance yourself from. Right until you need your _inheritance_? You ridiculous, hypocritical boy -’ 

Scorpius clenched his jaw. ‘You’ve got the paperwork on you, because you wanted to use this to bring me home. You’ll hand it over _now_ , and then you’ll trot right back to England and we don’t need to have anything more to do with one another. Because if you don’t, gee, you know who I’m working alongside? Rose Weasley - I bet Hermione Granger would _love_ to know about Pureblooded families trying to keep the family money in the hands of the old patriarchs. Oh, and Matt Doyle - isn’t he the son of the Head of Legal Affairs? Isn’t his uncle a senior partner in the Doyle & Suarez law firm - see, the clue’s in the name.’ He planted his hand on the table. ‘I don’t _need_ you any more, Draco. You have now become _entirely_ irrelevant to my life, not just emotionally but now financially, too!’ 

Draco took a step back as if struck. But when he rallied he did so magnificently, his jaw tilting up, his shoulders squaring. ‘I am your father; no matter how much you wish to act otherwise, this is still -’ 

‘No. Because this Christmas, when I was cut off from the world, alone and desperate and scared, when someone close to me had _died_ and I was just one of a handful of kids with the weight of the world on my shoulders, _you_ wrote to me to tell me I was an _embarrassment_ to the family name, that I was making a _fool_ of myself. That not only had my choices been wrong because they were bad for _you_ , but that I needed to come and _abandon_ all of my friends, everyone I cared about, everyone who was _counting on me_ , because I was… what, more important than everyone else?’ 

‘ _Every_ parent thinks their child is more important than everyone else.’ 

‘Maybe.’ Scorpius looked at his other hand, and felt it beginning to shake. The surge of adrenaline from the row was kicking off the same fight-or-flight reflexes which his fight today had fired, and his brain was too jumbled to tell the difference. He swallowed on bile. ‘Give me the papers.’ 

Draco’s lips thinned - then he reached into his robes and pulled out folded parchment. ‘I can’t keep these from you. But you should know I’m going to start taking legal measures to reclaim this money; the trust funds had certain requirements you had to meet if you wanted access to them. I can make a good argument that you do _not_ meet them.’ 

Scorpius looked at Lisa, who to his astonishment seemed to get the message and took the papers from Draco. He looked his father in the eye, and tried to slow the thudding in his heart. ‘If you do that then I will spread news of this bounty, this lead on your connection to _bad people_ , to all of your enemies.’ 

His eyes narrowed. ‘I’m _family_ -’ 

‘Which is why you get a warning. _Goodbye_ , Draco.’ He didn’t move; didn’t trust his legs to not crumple under him, but his father seemed to take the dismissal anyway, turning on his heel and stalking across the bar towards the door. The moment he was out of sight, Scorpius collapsed onto a chair, burying his face in his hands, not caring one jot that Lisa was there and had seen the whole thing, because now his father was _gone_ , and that was what mattered. 

If he didn’t see him again in all his life, Scorpius thought, that would be too soon.


	38. A Star to Steer Her By

‘You’re chartering a _boat_?’ Lily grinned at her brother. ‘That’s so cool.’ 

Albus couldn’t help but smile as he shouldered his new bag, packed with replacement clothes and gear. After Kythos he intended to keep his belongings close to hand, even if he couldn’t perfect internal enlargement charms like Rose’s. ‘You can’t tell anyone, Lily, you know that?’ 

‘Pfft. I was going to tell the _Prophet_. Sell my story, make some money on the side. Do you think maybe they’d let _me_ be the Potter in the headlines if I did that?’ 

His fiddled with the bag strap to avoid meeting her gaze. ‘Yeah.’ 

‘Hey.’ She bounced over and swatted his hands away. ‘That was a joke. You can tell, because I was wearing my joking face.’ 

‘Sorry. I’m out of practice.’ 

‘And James is a great big smelly-face.’ Lily nodded sombrely, and he couldn’t help but crack an abashed smile in response. ‘I mean it. We’re _fine_ , Al. Sure, we’re _more_ fine knowing you haven’t been _murdered by Nazis_ , but we’re okay.’ 

His expression tensed. ‘He said Mum and Dad have been - that Dad’s been running -’ 

‘That was then. They came here together, didn’t they? James is just _guilty_. When Phlegethon kicked off he had to be at home, ground zero to disaster. And sure, it was a bigger disaster than his tabloid-thrilling exploits, but I think it made him finally realise what happens to us affects Mum and Dad. _I_ hurt Mum and Dad by being plagued, but it wasn’t my fault. _You_ hurt Mum and Dad by being a heroic hero, then and now, but that’s important. Him? He hurt Mum and Dad because he and Frank _had_ to go on a bender across Diagon Alley with every single Holyhead Harpy under twenty-five and get into fights. In Voldemort costumes.’ 

Albus remembered that. He remembered the saga of fuzzy photographs and increasingly outrageous details coming out, day after day and yet still not necessarily fictional. He remembered the renewed attention from the press; how shopping for his Hogwarts books for Sixth Year had been like running a gauntlet. He remembered his father making the abrupt decision to take them to Prague for the two weeks before the school year started, just to dodge the heat and drama. 

James had called it, “an all right sort of night.” 

_That was ten months ago. Feels like another life._

‘I’m still not sure why the Harpies wanted to go with them when they were dressed like _that_.’ Albus made a face. ‘He said you were winding yourself up into a mix of hero-worship and fear.’ 

Lily tossed her head. ‘He’s _jealous_. I mean, he’s scared and he’s angry, but a small bit of him resents that his little brother is running around saving the world. We’ll _never_ get out of Dad’s shadow. Even playing Quidditch, he’ll be in Mum’s shadow, and because Dad never _had_ a Quidditch career, everyone’s convinced that he would have been better. But you? You stand a chance of being your own man.’ 

‘And all it’s taken has been being presumed dead.’ His shoulders slumped as he looked at his sister. Of course she could analyse James like this. Despite the four-year age gap, the two of them had always been closer. Even before he’d been Sorted into Slytherin, away from his whole family, it had been James and Lily around the home as the daring duo. Not him. There was a reason he and Rose had been so close before Hogwarts. They were the Sane Ones. 

‘Yeah. Try to not do that again?’ 

Albus’ expression creased, and he pulled her to him in a tight hug. ‘You take care of everyone, okay? Especially yourself.’ 

‘Only if you promise to take care of especially _your_ self. Or I’m just going to have to shoulder the woes of the world.’ He would have argued with that, but there was a knock on the door and Lily pulled back, smile impish. ‘ _I_ _’m_ proud of you, Al. And I believe in what you’re doing.’ 

She’d said that right before he had to stop the conversation on purpose, and he knew it. But it was too late, so he just gave her a look as he opened the door to see Rose. Her gaze flickered between them, and idly Albus wondered when his cousin had got so good at reading him, too. He was surrounded by astute Weasley women. 

‘Sorry,’ said Rose. ‘But we’re down at the docks in twenty minutes. And I bet some of the others have gone.’ She paused. ‘That is, assuming you’re coming.’ 

‘No, this backpack’s for show,’ Albus said with a sigh. 

‘You could have been going home.’ 

‘No,’ he said again. ‘I couldn’t.’ 

Rose gave a sad smile. ‘You any closer to figuring out why we’re still doing this?’ 

‘Other than, “I have to”? Nope.’ 

‘Good. Me neither.’ 

‘I’m glad,’ said Lily, ‘that you’re giving risking your necks on an international relic hunt _serious_ consideration.’ She looked at Rose. ‘I thought Hugo was with you?’ 

‘He tried helping me pack.’ That was all the explanation Albus needed. He knew better than to interfere with Rose’s packing process. ‘He should be in the lobby.’ 

Lily rolled her eyes and led the way down the corridor. ‘And to think I worried your experiences would leave you forever changed.’ 

Albus squeezed Rose’s shoulder as they followed. He’d spotted her perturbed expression, and knew it well. It was the face she always wore when a family member made a crack about her being uptight - if he and her had always been the Sane Ones, everyone else had been the Funny Ones, and he’d made his peace with that a lot better than her. 

‘So where are you staying over there?’ said Lily as the lift wound them down. 

‘Not sure we should say,’ said Rose awkwardly. 

‘And I don’t know, yet. Scorpius said he had a plan for that,’ said Albus. 

Rose glanced at him, lips pursing. ‘He does. Do you think…’ 

Her voice trailed off, and Albus cocked his head. _How much do you know_? ‘Do I think what?’ 

They studied each other for a moment like poker players both clutching good hands, unsure if it was time for a showdown. In the end, Rose continued the bluff, tossing her hair over her shoulder. ‘D’you think he’s going to find somewhere _else_ fancy in the Bahamas?’ 

_I have no idea if that was you knowing that I know, or not knowing if I know and not wanting to tell too much. I_ _’m also no longer sure what I’m thinking._ Albus sighed. ‘Probably.’ 

The doors swished open to let them into the lobby, and though the hotel was full of the hustle and bustle of late morning checkouts, it was impossible to miss the flash of red that was Hugo’s hair on the far side. He wasn’t alone, though - next to him, expansive gestures accompanying the story he was in full swing of retelling, was Scorpius. 

Rose rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, no.’ 

‘…so, we’re being shot at.’ They could hear Scorpius before they got there. ‘We’re about twenty floors up. And my broom’s just had its head blown off. There was only one option.’ 

‘You jumped,’ said Hugo. 

Scorpius looked put-out at the anticipation of his story. ‘“Jumped” would imply a free-fall. I flew us, _both_ of us, on a _broken_ broom, through a broken window, with dissipating magic, away from casino security and to the ground.’ 

Albus couldn’t help but grin as they sauntered up, and Rose gave another eye-roll. ‘It was a crash,’ she said. 

‘A _controlled_ crash,’ said Scorpius, waggling a finger at her. ‘That’s a technical term, you know. It means I did something technical. And _cool._ ’ 

‘I heard about that,’ said Lily. ‘It did sound pretty badass.’ 

‘ _Thank_ you, Ultima Potter. In the littlest of Potters do I find the greatest of allies.’ 

‘What does that make me? Chopped liver?’ Albus raised an eyebrow. 

‘Think carefully on if you want our little siblings as your allies now, or Al and I as your allies for the coming weeks together,’ said Rose, arch but amused. 

‘And if you want anything from Rose, ever again,’ muttered Lily. ‘If you know what I mean.’ 

Both Albus and Hugo looked pained. ‘I didn’t need to think about that,’ they said in unison as Rose went pink. 

‘Hugo. Lily. Could we meet you two at the boat? I need to have a word with the guys before we set off,’ she said, and indulged Hugo’s good-natured grumbling as the younger members of the family left. But she kept her fixed smile intact until they were out the door, then she reached into her bag and pulled out a folder. ‘This is everything the Parisian government was prepared to give us on Lisa Delacroix.’ 

Albus winced, but took the file. ‘I… yeah.’ 

‘She does, apparently, check out. Lillian did the investigating, and Mum seemed satisfied with what she found,’ said Rose. Then she shifted her feet. ‘What - okay. I know this is the thing we don’t talk about. But what happened to her at Ager Sanguinis?’ 

He scratched his nose. ‘I’m not sure,’ he admitted at length. ‘I _do_ know that she’s… that she’s got a dangerous past. A bad past, and that she’s done things she’s not proud of. Fought. Killed. But that was before she went to work for the government. She says she’s changed, that she wants to do better, and I believe her.’ 

Scorpius shifted his weight. ‘I want to believe her, too, mate. And she _saved_ our arses from Thane, I saw that plain as day. But the more we learn about her, the more crazy her history seems.’ 

‘Maybe. But Thane hurt her; hurt her badly. And she’s never done anything wrong by us, and if her credentials check out then she’s spent the last few years working legitimately for a French security service - if _they_ think she’s a cleared and acceptable professional, why shouldn’t we?’ Albus thinned his lips. ‘Stop looking at me like that. I can separate personal and professional.’ 

‘I was - I don’t disagree with you, mate.’ 

Albus looked at Rose, who had turned more pink. ‘What?’ 

‘I -’ She closed her eyes. ‘You know how you asked me to check her out with Legilimency? And I said that would be a horrible thing to do, a violation of her privacy and trust?’ Silence fell, neither answer nor explanation needed, and Albus tried to fight the twisting in his gut as realisation sank in. 

_I did ask you to do that. And I don_ _’t know if I was wrong to ask you. But I know you were_ ** _right_** _to say no._   
  
Rose had begun to examine a wall hanging as if it was the most exciting thing in the lobby. ‘She checked out,’ she said at length. ‘She has no love for Thane’s people. She trusts you, she has faith in you.’ Another hesitation. ‘And she knows it happened and was oddly okay with it.’ 

Scorpius gave a long, low sigh. ‘ _Bugger_ this life, honestly. There’s nothing about this that doesn’t stink.’ 

She bit her lip. ‘Yeah.’ 

Albus grimaced. ‘What’s done is done. But then I think we need to agree that this is the end of it. Rose has checked her out. _Lillian Rourke_ has checked her story. We’ve seen her fight with us, and we know she’s got our backs. She’s with us. She’s one of us. Is that agreed?’ 

‘Agreed,’ said Scorpius. 

Rose just gave an unhappy nod, and Scorpius reached for her hand - only for her to yank it back, and then look mortified. ‘I don’t - sorry. I agree.’ She looked away from his hurt gaze to the doors. ‘We should get to the boat. Get to the others.’ 

Scorpius drew his hand back, gaze flickering. ‘If they’re there.’ 

‘They’ll be there.’ Albus sighed, turning away from them. He wasn’t unsympathetic, but now was not the time to get into another Scorpius and Rose bicker, and his head was swimming with the revelations of the last few moments. ‘Even if they don’t know why.’ 

_You couldn_ _’t come up with a good reason. But you’re here anyway._

* * 

Somehow, she’d got through the last twenty-four hours without her cover getting blown and winding up in prison. Lisa still wasn’t sure how this had happened. 

She’d tried to not panic through their arrest and incarceration. She didn’t _think_ that any of the Council wizards who’d been taken prisoner were Thane’s band, were people who knew of her mission. But Santiago could have taken a Legilimens to her if he’d been of a mind to, maybe even with Veritaserum. It was one thing for her to be able to deflect a light, surface read from Rose. There was no way she would be able to Occlumens a professional-level Legilimens working for the Portuguese Auror Department in controlled circumstances. 

It would have all been over. 

But then Hermione Granger and Lillian Rourke had arrived and confirmed the other five were who they said they were, and she’d been freed with them. Trusted alongside them. Sat face to face with two of the most powerful people in Britain, two of the most powerful people in the _world_ and two of the Council of Thorns’ greatest adversaries - and been listened to. Briefed by them, even. 

Why shouldn’t she be? She’d helped their children out in their time of greatest need. Warned them about the attack on Kythos, fought through Syria, and then, yesterday, she’d been front-and-centre battling against the Council of Thorns. Thrown herself into the combat whole-heartedly, was the reason why Raskoph’s ritual had been disrupted, really, because there was no way that Matt and Selena could take down those wizards. She’d fought like she meant it. 

And she’d done it without thinking. Even against Thane. 

If they suspected her, they would have thrown her into a cell and shaken her until the answers came out. That she made it to the chartered magical boat winding its way across the Atlantic to the Caribbean meant she had succeeded in the most integral part of her mission. She was accepted. She was trusted. 

It was not as reassuring as Lisa had thought it would be. 

She’d stayed out of the way for most of the family reunions and discussions. It was the best for her cover, and the best for her sanity. But it had been unavoidable at the farewells on the waterfront, where Harry Potter had shaken her hand, where she’d had thanks from the families of the people she meant to infiltrate and betray. The most upsetting of all had been when Lillian Rourke, Chairman of the International Magical Convocation, had come up to her and pulled her into a tight hug, right before they’d left. 

‘They’re just children,’ Lillian had whispered to her in perfect Arabic. ‘Make sure they don’t get hurt. Not for the fate of the world. But for me. Please.’ She’d pulled back, and when she did, there was something glinting in her eye. ‘It’ll be worth it.’ 

_At least she still thinks I_ _’m mercenary, even if she thinks I’m a trustworthy mercenary._ For some reason it was comforting. If she was coming across as too altruistic, she would have started to panic. She met Lillian’s gaze. ‘I’m not here for the money, Chairman Rourke. They’ll be safe.’ 

‘They won’t be safe,’ said Lillian. ‘I just want them unharmed.’ 

‘Then I’ll make sure of that, too.’ 

‘Good.’ 

Their boat had the look of an old wooden sailing ship, tall-masted but small for a trans-Atlantic journey by Muggle standards. The sail was raised even when it was moored, and Lisa suspected that its purpose was magical rather than mundane. Hermione Granger had sighed when she’d seen it, gaze going nostalgic. ‘Reminds me of the Durmstrang ship,’ she’d told her husband and friends. 

The moment Lisa could get on board she’d gone to find a cabin and skipped the rest of the farewells. She’d stayed down there, in the gloomy, wooden room until she’d felt the ship begin to rock underfoot, and by the time she’d got back up on deck, they were underway. The Portuguese shore was disappearing rapidly in the background. 

‘Does this thing need… I don’t know. Sailing?’ Albus was saying, looking about the deck. 

‘It’s magical,’ said Scorpius with a smirk. ‘It’ll take us anywhere we want in the Caribbean. Got it booked for a fortnight, and I can extend that if needs be, no problem.’ 

‘Oh, good.’ Matt looked around the ship, expression easing. ‘I think we want to investigate San Salvador, but I haven’t finished going through all of de Sablé’s notes. I should have by the time we get there, but we might want to hop around a few islands. We could be spending a lot of time on the sea.’ He snorted, and when he spoke again, it sounded like he was reciting something. ‘ _I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and sky -_ ’ 

‘ _And all I ask for is a tall ship, and a star to steer her by_ ,’ Rose finished automatically. 

Lisa rolled her eyes as the two exchanged an awkward glance and Scorpius glared. They had been through so much, and yet so little changed sometimes. ‘If we’ve got a galley, and if we’ve got supplies, and if we’re still going to be a few days at this, _I_ _’m_ going to get some reading done. I still have sections of de Sablé’s notes to translate.’ 

With that, she bowed out of the situation and returned to her gloomy cabin. She’d thought that working on de Sablé’s notes from Ager Sanguinis would be tiresome work, but the difficulty of the older forms of language and the effort of the translations were made up for by the content itself. 

She’d never known anything about Veils. She hadn’t even been aware of them as a form of magic before Ager Sanguinis, but de Sablé had studied his extensively for the better part of a century. It had been built to bind the necromancy inherent in the area after the battle, and the applications of necromancy were something she _did_ have some grasp of, after working with Thane on the build-up to the Hogwarts mission. 

When she eventually broke out of the stupor of study, it was dark. With a groan, Lisa rubbed her neck and decided she’d stretch her legs, find a drink in the galley. The ship creaked, the timbers groaning with every rise and fall on the waves, and the deck rocked under her, leaving her glad she wasn’t one to feel nauseous in travel. She wasn’t sure how the ship moved itself, but it obviously wasn’t from the wind. The sail was still when she came up on deck, and yet she was sure they were moving, was sure she could hear waves rushing against the bow. It was a clear night, the stars dazzling and countless above, their light falling on deck. 

And by moonlight she could see the only other figure on deck. Selena Rourke stood in the most wide, open space she could find, wand in hand, and Lisa paused by the doorway to watch the younger girl work her way through stances, combat moves, drills. She pursed her lips, silent for long moments, and when she broke the silence it was to give a clap that might as well have been a gunshot. 

Selena spun on the spot, wand levelled, and Lisa suppressed a smile and said, ‘Don’t move.’ 

‘What -’ 

Lisa padded forward and nudged Selena’s right foot back to where it had been. ‘I said, don’t move.’ Gaze critical, she looked her up and down. ‘Straighten your shoulders. You stoop, like you’re ready to duck. Magic flows through your body; you want a strong spine. Just because you don’t need to _speak_ spells doesn’t mean you don’t need to _breathe_ them.’ 

‘Doesn’t that make me a better target?’ 

‘Yes. Which is why you need to twist your body sideways.’ Lisa reached out to reposition her accordingly. ‘There. You sacrifice none of your strength, but you present a narrower profile.’ 

‘Albus didn’t teach a stance like this.’ 

‘Albus is bigger and stronger, and so his magic flows differently. He puts physical force behind his spells, behind his wand movements. That works for him, but it won’t work for you. _You_ need… finesse.’ Lisa grasped Selena’s wrist, adjusting the position of her arm. ‘Precision. _Flow_.’ 

Selena’s frown remained as she settled into the new stance. ‘That does feel better.’ 

‘Good. You’ve got good instincts. You did well yesterday.’ 

Selena work her jaw wordlessly, and Lisa squinted. She wasn’t used to seeing her stumped like that. ‘…teach me?’ 

‘I -’ 

‘You know how to fight. _Really_ fight. Albus uses brute force, Rose uses technical magics; you fight much more like me, and you’re the best one of us anyway, and -’ 

‘I said you did well yesterday -’ 

‘But “well” isn’t going to cut it against Thane and Raskoph, is it.’ 

Lisa bit her lip. ‘Prometheus Thane is one of the most powerful fighters in the world. Colonel Raskoph has a _century_ of experience; he was one of Grindelwald’s ranking officers.’ 

‘I know I’m never going to be as good as them -’ 

‘You might do well enough, don’t get me wrong. You don’t have the most natural flair I’ve ever seen, but you’re not useless -’ 

‘Yes, I am.’ Selena lowered her wand, exasperated. ‘You were there the other day. Matt’s reading meant he knew how to destroy the dragon. Albus battled a bunch of Council wizards from a broom. Scorpius _flew distraction_ on a dragon and then went toe-to-toe with Prometheus Thane. Rose stopped a building from exploding on people. And you broke Raskoph’s team and drove off both him _and_ Thane. What did I do?’ 

This wasn’t the sort of outburst Lisa had come to expect from Selena Rourke. But she was starting to see the fire behind the girl’s grief, see how she read and understood _people_ , which was enough to make her dangerous. And Lisa hadn’t expected her own reaction, either, because it was sudden and it was real. She felt _sorry_ for her. She wanted to help her. 

_This is going very badly._   
  
She lifted a hand. ‘I’ve been in enough fights that I _never_ underestimate the importance of solid backup. You’re not wrong, but you’re not right, either. Someone to watch my back, notice the things I don’t, cast extra shields and give my spells extra juice, can _absolutely_ make the difference between life and death.’ Lisa narrowed her eyes, assessing. ‘And that’s what you want, isn’t it? To make that difference. To make sure nobody else dies.’ 

Selena jerked her chin up half an inch. ‘How about we have this deal,’ she said, ‘where you don’t ask me too many questions, and in return I don’t ask _you_ too many questions.’ 

_Ouch._ Lisa tried to keep her face studied. ‘Deal.’ 

‘Then I’ll make _this_ question short and sharp; be honest, but just “yes” or “no” will do: If you had the choice, would you take _me_ on a job as backup?’ 

Now Lisa flinched. ‘No. But I can change that. If you _do_ want to learn.’ 

‘I asked, after all. And we have a few days without much to do.’ 

‘I can’t turn you into a master with a wand in a few days. I _can_ perfect your fundamentals. But it’ll be hard work, and long hours.’ 

‘Good,’ Selena said, then broke into a mutter. ‘Keeps me away from Matt.’ 

‘Why do you want to stay away from Matt?’ 

‘You’re not very good at this “no questions” deal, are you?’ 

Lisa rolled her eyes. But Selena was right, if only because she’d rather work than find out what torrid incidents were breaking out across the ship. And if Selena wanted to dodge them for the next few days, she was all-too happy to join her. 

They stayed there for hours, until the night was no longer young and the ship below was silent, until they were both worn and tired from drills and routines and practice. Selena was not the most natural with a wand that Lisa had ever seen, but she was determined and she had the fundamentals down, and the world was not so kind that only talented fighters had to defend themselves. She would never go toe-to-toe with a master, but she might live. And that was what it was all about. 

_I_ _’m here to betray you. But you need to live long enough for it to be worth it._ Or that was what she told herself when they said their good nights and Lisa headed below decks, satisfyingly weary. She found her cabin, cracked the door open - then there was a creak of wood from behind, and she spun to see the opposite door open. 

Albus stood there, brow furrowed. ‘You’re back. I didn’t want to interrupt you up top.’ 

_I didn_ _’t notice you watching us_ , she cursed herself, and forced her breathing to slow. ‘What? It’s late.’ 

‘I know. I’m sorry. This can wait.’ 

She exhaled. ‘No. Let’s talk.’ But she gestured to his room, because she always preferred to have the option to leave if she needed to, instead of having to shoo him if the conversation went poorly. 

_What are you expecting this conversation to_ do _?_ she asked herself, lips thinning. But there was no time to contemplate this question, and she followed him into cabin. The rooms were small but comfortable, and he’d lit the lanterns which cast the wood panelling in a warm, cosy glow. He stood in the middle of the room for a moment, then crossed to the writing desk and picked up a manilla folder. 

‘We got this from Lillian Rourke,’ he said, and gave it to her. 

Heart in her throat, Lisa flipped it open to see a picture of her, and for a split second she thought everything was over. Then she realised this would be the dumbest confrontation in history, and spotted the name at the head of the paper: Lisa Delacroix. Not Eva Saida. It was the falsified records of Lisa Delacroix’s altered background that Prometheus had promised they would arrange for her, painting her as a bodyguard rather than academic aide. Somewhere, the real Lisa Delacroix’s records were burning. It was just as well she really _had_ been a nobody of an assistant. There wasn’t much to hide. 

_And Thane probably did something to her family so they didn_ _’t ask too many_ \- 

Her mind sheared away from that thought before she could finish it. Now was not the time. She looked up from the folder to quirk an eyebrow at Albus. ‘This is me, yes.’ 

‘I haven’t read it,’ he said, and shook his head when she went to hand it back. ‘I’m not going to. I know that’s a bit of a stupid move, considering - considering Rose has read it, considering Lillian and Hermione have gone through it. It’s a bit like closing the gate after the horse has bolted, so far as trust goes.’ 

‘I don’t understand.’ 

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, squaring his shoulders. ‘I’m sorry for having people check up on your background. I’m sorry about - I’m sorry for having Rose use Legilimency on you. And I’m sorry I did that in the most cowardly way, implying I wanted her to do it but not outright telling her, so I could tell myself it was _her_ choice.’ 

‘I’m pretty sure that _was_ her choice,’ Lisa pointed out. ‘Rose wouldn’t do it if she didn’t agree with it.’ 

‘Maybe.’ Albus shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘But I’m good at making people do what I want them to do, think what I want them to think. I know they listen to me. I know they trust me. And I know I am trying to be worthy of that trust, worthy of that respect, and trying to be a good guy. And I failed with you, didn’t I?’ 

‘Al…’ She’d never called him _that_ before, and Lisa looked away, throat tightening. ‘I obfuscated a good chunk of my history. Because I thought you’d hate me. You found out about it in the _worst_ of ways, and you didn’t just continue to listen to me, you _saved_ me. In Ager Sanguinis, you saved me when you had _every_ reason to think that I was getting what I deserved, or that I was at least not someone you wanted to keep on this operation. You would have been an _idiot_ to not have Rose check me out, to not have your contacts run a background check on me.’ 

‘I didn’t ask them directly -’ 

‘No, people just did it for you because these things need to be done, and we…’ Her shoulders slumped and she looked at him. ‘…want to do what needs to be done, for you, without making you shove your hand in the fire yourself. Because you’re too good to burn.’ 

‘If it needs doing,’ said Albus, voice low, ‘then I shouldn’t shy from doing it myself. I did. It’s right or it’s wrong - it’s not made better because _I_ don’t do it.’ 

‘Then this is my fault. _I_ put you in this situation, this situation where you were mad to trust me, and yet all sensible options were a violation of the trust you _wanted_ to - this is ridiculous.’ She took a step towards him. ‘You did what you had to in order to keep this team safe. _That_ _’s_ important. Not some self-imposed sense of obligation to me. You don’t _owe_ me anything.’ 

He looked at her, gaze gently bewildered. ‘I don’t try to be decent to people because they’re _owed_ it.’ 

Lisa sighed. ‘You really are too good to be true, aren’t you. I don’t blame you for what you did, I don’t even disapprove of what you did. But if you feel you have wronged me in some way, then I _forgive_ you.’ _How the hell do I get to forgive_ him? _How does that make any kind of sense?_   
  
His expression softened. ‘Thank you. I wish - I suppose I wish I’d done one or the other. Trusted you or not trusted you. Not hovered in between.’ 

‘That’s _my_ fault for not being the easiest person to trust.’ 

‘But I trust you now.’ He lifted his gaze, the light of the lanterns making his eyes a warmer shade of green. ‘Yesterday - you had Matt and Selena’s backs. You had _my_ back - you saved Scorpius and me from Thane. I’ve never seen a fight like that, not ever, you were - you were incredible.’ 

She closed her eyes. It was one thing to back up Matt and Selena against Raskoph. It was arguably doing her job, and she’d never had any personal loyalty to Raskoph. Roughing him up a bit was the least she could do after he’d tried to have her killed as collateral on Kythos. But fighting Thane… 

She’d never thrown a spell at him in earnest before. But that hadn’t been a ploy; she’d acted without thinking, and every inch of determination she could muster had been in the movements of her wand, the incantations in her head. Driving him back had come as natural as breathing, and the only reason it hadn’t turned deadly was because she knew him too well. She knew she could make it more trouble than it was worth to stand and fight, and so he’d fled. Prometheus Thane was so successful because he knew when to fight another day. 

On the one hand, she was supposed to be fighting alongside the Hogwarts Five, earning their trust. On the other, Thane wouldn’t have stayed there idly. He’d had a purpose, an intent, or he would have left after the crash. She knew he didn’t want to make a move against Scorpius, wasn’t sure where his family stood in regards to the Council, but there could be no such uncertainty about Albus Potter. It would have snatched victory from the jaws of defeat for the Council, if the dust had settled and the world had discovered that while they didn’t gain a dragon-golem weapon, they _did_ murder Harry Potter’s son. 

She’d feared this unconsciously, and so she’d acted unconsciously. And she’d stopped him. For the first time in her life, she’d opposed him. 

‘I’m on the team,’ Lisa said instead, voice low. ‘It’s what I’m here for.’ 

‘We’ve all got our reasons to be here. And I know your reason, I know you want revenge.’ Albus watched her. ‘It doesn’t have to just be that.’ 

‘I don’t get fluffy feelings from stopping the Council. I’ll settle for satisfaction in ruining them.’ 

‘And when this is over?’ He took a step closer. ‘What do you do then?’ 

_Destroy you._ She looked up to meet his gaze. ‘I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.’ 

His expression flickered. ‘It’s worth some thought now. We’ve got the time.’ 

‘When this is over, Al, at best I will go to work. And my work will, maybe, do something good to redress the balance, to right the wrongs I’ve done. It’s not much, it’s not exciting, but it’s using my talents to keep people safe.’ The lies felt sour in her mouth for once, so she pressed on to find some kernel of truth, if only for her own sanity. ‘People like me don’t swan off to get happily ever afters. Good endings are when everyone gets what they deserve. If we get a good ending, I’m dead or in a cell.’ 

‘I don’t believe that. You’ve changed, Lisa. You might have brought what happened at Ager Sanguinis down on your head, but you’re not the person who did those deeds any more.’ Albus reached out - and, as ever, she shied back. 

_Don_ _’t touch me_. She always hated being touched. But this felt different; he wasn’t triggering the fight-or-flight instincts, that sense of being attacked. He wasn’t a threat, he was _warmth_ , but she had to pull away from that, too. She was so cold she knew he’d burn her. ‘I will help you,’ she said, and couldn’t fight the shake in her voice. ‘I will work with you to find the Chalice, to thwart the Council. For revenge, and for you. But don’t think that makes everything better. You don’t undo that kind of darkness.’ 

Then she left, and silently she cursed the English language for making the ‘you’ ambiguous. She’d meant them all, when she’d started the sentence. The whole of the Five. 

_For you. Which_ _‘you’? Them? Him?_   
  
She bolted the door of her cabin when she was back inside, and flashed her wand around with a charm to sound-proof it. She couldn’t risk being overheard, but she had to do something she should have done a long time ago. Hand shaking, Lisa reached to the chain about her neck and flipped the two-way mirror open. ‘…talk to me, Prometheus.’ 

Long moments thudded out in silence until there was the flash of a piercing blue eye. ‘I was wondering when you’d grace me with your presence, Eva.’ 

_Eva._ The name made her flinch. ‘I’ve not been free to talk. Also, you’ve been working for Raskoph, who was perfectly happy to kill me in Kythos -’ 

‘And I warned you.’ 

‘Which I’m grateful for, but you don’t have control over him, Prometheus. I don’t need to be in touch with you all the time to stick to the plan. If I give you information, either you can’t do anything about it, or you _can_ and then I get Raskoph coming to _kill_ us. Which screws with the plan. So continued contact has been pointless at best, dangerous at worst.’ 

A long silence. Then, ‘It would have been agreeable to know if you were still alive, or if you were compromised. Or if the lot of you had got yourselves killed.’ 

_Agreeable. I_ _’m warm and fuzzy inside._ ‘I’m telling you now.’ 

‘After you’ve had no choice.’ He paused. ‘Raskoph’s furious about Tomar. That golem would have been an astonishing weapon in the hands of the Council.’ 

‘I see they’ve abandoned subtlety. I take it he’s blaming me.’ 

‘He’s got a lot of blame to go around; he’s generous like that. But, yes. I’ve had to remind him and _assure_ him that you are loyal, that you’re keeping to your cover, and that the plan will pay off. He doesn’t like it; I know he’d kill you with the Five if he had the chance, but if you pull this off you’ll be all right.’ 

‘So if I _survive_ my boss trying to kill me, he might forgive me for defending myself. Super.’ Lisa’s jaw tightened. ‘This is insane, Prometheus. _He_ _’s_ insane. The _Council_ is insane if they wanted this damned golem - and what are they even doing with Ager Sanguinis?’ 

He faltered. ‘What do you know about -’ 

‘Spinks didn’t fall off a high place, we killed him. We were there, we saw the Veil, we saw the dark magic - what the hell is going on?’ 

‘The Council is investigating various places of necromantic magic for - you don’t need to know this. You _shouldn_ _’t_ know more than you do. And there might be factions in the Council with more melodramatic intentions, but that’s not _all_ of the Council. There are calmer groups, and those are the ones I’m working for, working with. Something more _sane_ than “let’s seep the world in death-magic and commandeer a golem-dragon.”’ 

‘Really. Where are they? Because so far all I’ve seen is you taking your marching orders from Raskoph.’ 

There was a flicker in his eye, something she hadn’t seen before. ‘You got in my way yesterday,’ he said at last, voice low. 

‘I was protecting my team. It’s made them trust me fully.’ _As fully as they can._   
  
‘I was going to kill Albus Potter. You don’t need _all_ of the Five to get the Chalice.’ 

Her throat tightened. ‘We need him.’ 

Prometheus was silent for a few long moments. ‘You’re sounding unsure of your place in this.’ 

‘I trust you, Prometheus. And I trust this plan; this is a _good_ plan. The Five have a good chance of finding the Chalice. They’re intelligent, they’re resourceful, and they’re determined.’ 

‘They’ve gone up in your estimation.’ 

‘I’ve spent more time with them and seen what they can survive. They can get the Chalice, and _I_ can get you the Chalice. But I don’t trust that you can keep Raskoph off my back, the mad elements of the Council off my back.’ 

‘I’ll do what I can. Where are you?’ 

‘That’s exactly the point; I can’t tell you.’ Her lips thinned. ‘I will report back to you when I have the Chalice, and hand it over to you. Other than that, I see no reason for us to stay in touch. If I give you leads, it’ll expose me at best, or get me killed at worst. I work for you, Prometheus. I didn’t get into this to die for you. I’ll use the drop points to keep in contact, the old methods. Not this damned trinket. It’s too risky for me to keep.’ 

Prometheus’ voice went icy. ‘Then how do I get in touch with you?’ 

She met his cold gaze without hesitation. ‘You don’t.’ The mirror was closed without another word. 

_You don_ _’t go back from this._   
  
_I don_ _’t even know what ‘this’ is. The plan hasn’t changed._   
  
_You have._

Lisa stood for a long time in the dark of her cabin, alone, the locket in her hand. Then she walked to the window, pulled it open, and hurled the trinket into the ocean. 

She felt lighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Matt and Rose quote, between them, the first two lines of John Masefield’s ‘Sea Fever’ in this chapter._
> 
> _The ‘lore’ on stances for wand combat, body types working best in different styles, so forth, is utterly made up._


	39. Moonlight and Roses

‘Luxury boat. Our own cabin. Setting off for the Caribbean. What more could we want?’ Scorpius closed the door to the cabin behind them, his gaze seeking her. ‘Also, in here, you can’t dodge me any more.’ 

‘That sounds ominous,’ said Rose, voice absent as she crossed the cabin to open the shutters, letting the late evening rays of the sun creep in. 

‘I mean it.’ He tossed his bag onto the bed. ‘You’ve been doing a me.’ 

‘Doing a…?’ 

‘Brooding and avoiding me. In a much more subtle way.’ He leaned on the door, arms folding across his chest. ‘You actually talk to me and look at me, but you’ve been evasive.’ 

‘I have not -’ 

He crossed the room and reached for her hand, and she slid from his touch before he even got there. Scorpius’ jaw tightened. ‘See? Come on. Talk to me.’ She had her back to the wall, but there was a tension to her shoulders which made him take a step back. Otherwise he was cornering her, blocking the escape route with his greater size, and the mere thought of that set a prickle at the back of his neck. He was here to talk. Not bully. ‘Is this about… what I said in the cell -’ 

Her eyes widened. ‘No! Not at all! It’s just been a bit… much. With Mum and Dad and Hugo and Uncle Harry -’ 

He only half-believed her. ‘That’s not it, Rose.’ 

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Scorp. My family thought I was dead, it’s just been a bit emotional getting made… not-dead. My parents aren’t the most easy-going people in the world.’ 

‘Compared to some, your parents are so laid-back they’re practically horizontal,’ he snorted. 

She bit her lip. ‘How was your father?’ 

His gut twisted, concern for her dissipating in the face of that old, familiar anger. He made a low noise and stalked to the window, and she again slid away from him. Once he wouldn’t have noticed, but he knew her too well by now, could read her body like an open book, and he knew when she was shying away. ‘He didn’t deny the bounty. He’s bloody in with the Council -’ 

‘We know the Council of Thorns has connections to crooks,’ she said softly. ‘It’s possible he just put out a contract and it ended up in Council hands -’ 

Anger tightened to a fist in his stomach. ‘Why are you always so damn intent on defending him? Back in Hogwarts you were championing what a hateful man he is; now I’m _letting_ myself hate him, you’re suddenly saying I shouldn’t!’ 

‘I’m not saying you shouldn’t hate him; I’m saying you should look at all the evidence. He put out a bounty on people who hurt you -’ 

‘No! No, he didn’t! He put a bounty on people who hurt the family. That’s what it’s about. That’s what it’s _always_ been about. How the family looks. He’s been so _obsessed_ with making the Malfoy name _mean_ something since the war, since my grandfather died, that he’s not cared who he hurt. So long as we were the perfect little family unit, so long as we lived the lives _he_ wanted, he’s been happy - and he’s been satisfied with nothing less.’ 

Rose let out a long, slow breath. She had softened, he thought; he could see tension in her eyes, but there was no longer the fight-or-flight instinct. ‘You can’t keep driving him away.’ 

‘I _can_ ,’ Scorpius snapped, advancing at last. ‘You really don’t understand, do you? You’ve just said your parents aren’t the most understanding people in the world; did they _ever_ call you stupid?’ 

‘No -’ 

‘My father did. I was nine and learning to play the guitar. He caught me, broke it. Said I’d never amount to anything if I furthered “stupid Muggle indulgences”. Called me stupid for being curious. About _music_ , Rose.’ His voice shook, and he planted his hands on the cabin’s writing desk to steady himself. ‘Did your parents ever call you worthless?’ 

‘No -’ 

‘My father did. Several times. Oh, yes, last year when I was running the radio show to help _sick kids_ communicate with their parents, but before that. When he saw my OWL results; those “A”s in Transfiguration and Arithmancy rankled him. I was never going to qualify for one of the Ministry fast-track posts with _those_ academic scores, was I! Nobody cares about an “O” in Astronomy!’ She opened her mouth to answer, eyes wider, back straighter, but he was on a roll now. ‘Did your parents ever call you a failure?’ 

‘Scorpius -’ 

‘My father did! When Albus made Quidditch captain and I didn’t; when Albus made prefect and I didn’t - Albus, the first person to stand by me who had _no reason_ to, and my father threw that friendship _in my face_ , not because of a family grudge but simply to _make me feel lesser_!’ Anger writhed inside him like an angry snake by now, and all he could do to appease it was thump his fist on the desk to punctuate the last words. 

‘Scorpius!’ Rose had jumped back at that, and now the fight-or-flight air about her had returned - and ‘flight’ seemed to be winning. 

He heard his voice echo in the cramped cabin, saw the glint of fear in her eyes, and the anger rushed away for shame to fill the gap. _And now I sound like him._ He straightened and backed away from the writing deck, moving to the wall. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘I didn’t mean to - I’m sorry.’ 

Silence hung in the room, and only then did he remember they’d started this conversation somewhere else. She’d been holding back and he’d been challenging her on it, and then she’d asked him about his father. His breath caught. ‘You wanted me to “look at all the evidence” about my father?’ 

When he lifted his head, she was biting her lip. ‘I just meant -’ 

Shame faded for clarity, and cold realisation. ‘You said that to piss me off.’ He straightened. ‘You specifically brought up my father to distract me, then you _specifically_ told me to not drive him away so I’d be angry and wouldn’t notice that you _changed the subject_.’ 

Tears filled her eyes until she shut them. ‘I was trying to -’ 

‘You were trying to divert me.’ He squared his shoulders, expression sinking. ‘You made me bring up and dwell on the hateful, hurtful things my father did, just to wriggle out saying what was on your mind.’ Scorpius’ jaw set. ‘Well done. It worked.’ 

Rose stepped forward. ‘Scorpius -’ 

‘Hey, what do you know. The brochure didn’t lie. These cabins _are_ pretty small.’ He stalked to the bed, snatched up his packed bag. ‘Turns out that’s not as much of a perk as I thought.’ He didn’t care that slamming the door would probably be heard across the entire ship. The others would notice something was up soon enough, anyway. After all, he was about to occupy the boat’s sixth cabin.

* * 

Matt woke once sunlight crept through the cabin window. He couldn’t see a shoreline any more, and while that meant they were making progress, he found the open water disconcerting. There was no way to gauge progress; the ocean looked much the same wherever in the world they were. All that changed were the stars and the temperature, and at this time of morning, before the sun was at its zenith, neither were making an appearance. 

But he was not the only one out and about at this time, he discovered once he padded up on the main deck to find Selena coming the other way, plate of toast in hand. ‘Not sitting out for breakfast?’ 

‘I’ve got some reading to do,’ she said with a shrug. ‘And there’s no table in the galley. I think we’re supposed to lounge around on deck all decadently.’ 

‘That’s almost a pun. I thought decadent was what you did?’ He offered her a playful grin. 

And got nothing in response. ‘I don’t fancy sitting on the benches.’ 

She went to step past him, but he leaned in, blocking her way. ‘Hey. What’s up?’ 

The look he got in response was the sort Selena normally reserved for when someone was being particularly stupid. ‘Nothing? I was just going to read.’ 

‘What’re you reading?’ 

‘Why’s it your business?’ 

‘Because we’re friends and friends talk about things they’re up to?’ 

Her eyes flashed. ‘My toast is getting cold.’ 

He bit his cheek. ‘Are you still angry with me for Tomar?’ 

‘If you want to risk your life on an idiotic, mad-cap escapade, Doyle, I don’t see why that should be _any_ of my concern.’ 

‘Again, maybe because we’re friends?’ 

‘If you have to keep on insisting it,’ said Selena archly, ‘then doesn’t _that_ mean something?’ She went to pass him again, and again he found himself reaching for her arm. She glared at his hand like it was something slimy that would stain her blouse. 

‘What’s going on?’ Matt asked through gritted teeth. ‘You come to me for comfort after Ager Sanguinis, and then a few days later you’re treating me like I’m an utter nobody, or like I pissed you off for getting into a fight - a fight on a mission _you_ signed us up for!’ 

‘So if something happens to you out here, it’s _my_ fault?’ 

‘In a way! Yeah!’ 

It wasn’t, really, what he meant. But it was what he _said_ , and so he didn’t fight her when she yanked her arm free. ‘Next time I decide I don’t want a conversation, you’re going to let me walk off. Even if _you_ want to talk. Because if you grab me to yell again, I’m going to take your bloody hand.’ 

‘Then don’t treat me like a toy to be picked up and thrown away when you’ve lost interest,’ he groused - but embarrassment filled him, and trickled over the anger to make him sound sulky rather than accusing. 

‘Hm. Lost interest.’ Selena wagged a finger. ‘Very astute.’ 

Then she was gone, and Matt was left alone on the deck, suddenly not very hungry. He stomped not to the galley, but up on the quarterdeck, high enough that he could see the whole ship and the luxurious, dazzling sapphire of the ocean. They had to be going at a tremendous speed, considering their estimated time of arrival, but the wind was no more than a gentle breeze to ruffle his hair, and the waves were calm. 

But he wasn’t alone on the quarterdeck, and so schooled his expression to something tight and controlled when he saw his company. ‘Good morning.’ 

Rose sat on one of the comfortable benches, a book in her lap. The sun was bright on her hair, making it ripple like polished bronze, and the wind played with loose locks to see them float gently about her. But when she lifted her gaze, she, too, was taut. ‘Hi, Matt.’ 

_Don_ _’t tell me yours, and I won’t tell you mine._ He sat next to her. ‘Good book?’ 

‘I don’t know. I’ve been staring at the page for the last hour.’ She sighed and closed it. 

He cocked his head, spying the bags under her eyes. ‘So you didn’t have a good night’s sleep.’ 

‘You look like you’ve had a shoddy morning.’ 

His jaw tightened. ‘Okay. Are we going to have a proper conversation or are we going to prance around and pretend nothing’s wrong? Because I’m happy to not talk, I’m just… I’m already out of interest in playing games.’ 

Rose sighed, gaze dropping. ‘You don’t want to hear my problems.’ 

‘If they’re about Scorpius? Probably not.’ Matt shrugged. ‘I don’t know if you want to hear mine.’ 

‘Depends on if you want to tell me.’ 

He looked away. ‘I’m not even sure what they _are_. Do you know if I pissed Selena off in some way? You don’t have to tell me if I did, or what I’ve _done_ , I don’t want you to violate some girly code.’ 

Her eyebrows raised, and he thought the surprise was genuine. ‘I’ve not spoken to Selena much in the last few days, and we’ve not talked about you since -’ Then she stopped herself, and he sighed. 

‘That’s promising.’ 

She bit her lip. ‘Sorry.’ 

‘No, no, it’s fine. If she’s got a problem with me, she can bring it up herself, like a big girl.’ 

Rose winced. ‘We didn’t talk about you and her. We talked about you and me.’ 

Matt flinched before he could stop himself, and turned to study the mast intently. It was very… tall. ‘I didn’t think there _was_ a you and me.’ 

‘Matt, when did we stop being friends? We were _friends_ , for a long time, before we were a couple and then after.’ 

‘Were we? The way _I_ remember it is that we didn’t spend much time together until we were prefects, and that’s when we gottogether. Then we broke up and it was all _amicable_ but you went back to Hestia and Cheryl and I went back to John. And then you went out with Hector.’ His lip curled. 

‘I didn’t do that to hurt you.’ 

‘No, you did it to get over me. That’s… not actually all that comforting.’ This was not the issue he’d thought he’d confront today. He’d figured Selena was where problems began and end, and to be fair to Selena, she did not make for insignificant problems. The morning was escalating fast. 

When Rose spoke again, it was in a blurting tumble of words. ‘…it wasn’t amicable. I did break up with you. And you accepted it, better than I thought, so I liked to think that, because it wasn’t an argument, it was mutual. So that’s what I told people. And you didn’t contradict it, so that’s what people believed, that’s what _everyone_ wound up believing. Including, eventually, me.’ 

Matt scowled at the mast. ‘Not everyone,’ he said in a gruff voice. ‘Not me. Not really.’ 

‘Matt -’ 

He drew a raking breath. ‘The one thing you never _did_ explain properly, Rose, was _why_.’ 

She hesitated. ‘We were arguing lots, Matt. You remember that. Little bickers. You were too competitive, or that’s what I told myself - we were _both_ too competitive, too wound-up. Everything was always _big_ , and _dramatic_ , and _important_. We had to _care_ about everything, care intently, and neither one of us let the other switch off. And I was beginning to resent you for it. And I didn’t want to wind up hating you.’ 

His gaze dropped, brow furrowing. ‘I believe you,’ he said. ‘And that… does sound pretty familiar. But there’s something you’re not telling me.’ 

Another pause. ‘You really don’t want to hear this.’ 

‘Come on. You’ve come this far. I can read you pretty well; I’m getting really _sick_ of having to guess what should be filling awkward silences.’ 

When he looked at her, Rose was studying her hands as if all the secrets of the cosmos lay under her skin. ‘We could have maybe made it work. I was starting to fall for you; _really_ fall for you, and I didn’t know what would happen if I stuck it out, fought to fix things. I didn’t know how… far I’d fall.’ 

His jaw tightened. ‘So you bailed when it got hard. So you didn’t fight for it.’ 

She looked up at his accusing tone, eyes flashing. ‘Neither did you.’ 

Matt opened his mouth for an angry retort, then remembered where his temper had got him with his friends that morning. The anger was short-lived, anyway, and it wasn’t shame which took its place this time, but fatigue. ‘No,’ he sighed at last. ‘I didn’t. And that was a long time ago. And we’re over.’ 

‘We are.’ 

‘You moved on with Hector. And now you’re with Scorpius.’ Matt sighed again. ‘And you’re rowing with him right now.’ 

‘A row would suggest it was two-way,’ said Rose tightly. ‘He’s pissed off at me and he’s right to be.’ 

Suddenly he was hungry again. Perhaps his stomach knew he needed to escape the conversation and had decided to be his ally again. Matt got to his feet, but not before he reached out to squeeze her shoulder, touch ginger in case she wanted to pull away. She didn’t. ‘Then don’t do what you did with me, if he’s important to you. Fix it. Work on it. Make it right.’ She looked up at him, startled, and his expression creased. ‘Fight for it.’ 

Then he straightened and headed for the galley, leaving her behind with her book and her thoughts. But despite that he knew he’d done the right thing, made the healthy, smart choice to help her and to distance himself, he couldn’t help but feel like an additional burden had landed on his shoulders, and made him stoop a little more.

* * 

‘Knock knock.’ Albus stuck his head around the door to Scorpius’ cabin. 

Scorpius looked up from where he was sprawled on the bed. ‘That door was shut. Traditionally people knock, instead of just saying it.’ 

‘Yeah. True.’ Instead, Albus let himself in. The sun was fat and low in the sky beyond the window, their second night on board drawing in. ‘Except you would have told someone knocking to sod off, and I wasn’t actually going to take no for an answer. So the knock is kind of a… gesture.’ 

Scorpius sat up. ‘I’m really not feeling up for company, mate.’ 

‘Tough.’ Albus sat at the desk chair and dumped a pack of beer on the table. ‘ _I_ want company. You cannot deny me.’ 

‘You could have a beer with the others.’ 

‘I don’t _want_ to have a beer with them. I want to drink with my best mate.’ Albus swished his wand at the first two bottles, cracking them open. 

Despite himself, Scorpius took the drink when it was given. His shoulders sagged. ‘Somehow I can’t say no to you.’ 

‘It’s my winning charm.’ Albus swigged his beer. ‘It’s weird up there. Everyone’s being weird. Rose is distant, Selena’s distant, Matt’s distant, Lisa’s distant…’ 

‘Wait, wait. Hold the phone. _Lisa_ _’s_ being distant?’ 

Albus gave a wry grin. ‘She’s been thoughtful. It wouldn’t be a big deal, but with everyone else all maudlin it doesn’t help. I’m not meant to be the chirpy one. _You_ are.’ 

‘Yeah, well. I’m not feeling all that chirpy.’ 

‘You two.’ Albus made a low noise in his throat. It could have been frustration or amusement; Scorpius wasn’t sure. ‘You spend _five years_ fighting like cats in a sack. Then when you get to know each other, you don’t just get on, you _hook up_. And then you _keep fighting_ like cats in a sack.’ 

Scorpius coloured. ‘I like fighting her. Usually.’ 

‘I thought you hated her.’ He frowned. ‘I thought _she_ hated _you_.’ 

‘So did I. I didn’t hate her, though. I just thought she was fun to wind up, and I didn’t like how she looked down at me.’ 

‘I should have seen it coming, really. There were times you cared more about where Rose was, what Rose was doing, than you cared about _anything_ else going on in school.’ A slow, nostalgic smile tugged at Albus’ lips. ‘Of course, it was so you knew exactly what to say or do to wind her up, but, really. A guy pays _that_ much attention to a girl. It should mean something. And I think she kept your attention for longer than _any_ girl did.’ 

‘I don’t know if that was a thing.’ Scorpius scratched the back of his head. ‘Like a pigtail-pulling thing, I mean. I really did resent the hell out of her. And it really was kind of astonishing when Phlegethon happened and that meant I had to get to know her better and I found what I did. How scared she actually was. How she didn’t work because she was stuck up, she worked because she _cared_.’ He sighed. ‘How much she actually cared.’ 

‘She’s got a big heart.’ Albus sipped his beer. ‘Almost as big as yours.’ He gave a low chuckle. ‘Though you know, when I said I wanted you two to get on better, this wasn’t _exactly_ what I had in mind.’ 

‘I’m sorry I made things hard for you. Back then, I mean - you were cut off from your family by being a Slytherin, and you wanted me to make peace with her, and I didn’t. Even though she was the family closest to you.’ 

‘We were allies.’ Albus leaned back, watching the sunset through the narrow window. ‘Everyone else in the family around our age is one of the jokers. My brother, the rascal. My sister, with the nose for trouble and fun. Her brother, living large. Our cousins -’ 

‘If you list them all,’ said Scorpius gently, ‘we’re going to be here a while.’ 

‘I struggled to get on with James and Lily. I was always more serious than them, and I couldn’t get why they didn’t stop to _think_ more. And Lily worshipped the ground James walked on, at least back then, and they were always a team. Rose was the one who thought like me, joked like me, had fun like me.’ 

‘I really didn’t mean to come between you two. That was the last thing I wanted.’ 

‘You didn’t,’ said Albus with a sigh. ‘We all let childish things get in the way of what mattered. But we were children. And you’re my best friend, and I wouldn’t change my choice in the Sorting for a thousand more chances with Rose.’ 

Scorpius frowned. ‘Your choice?’ 

Albus faltered. Then he looked down, intently studied the label on the beer bottle. ‘The Sorting Hat gave me a choice. It said I had everything it took to be a Gryffindor. But I had a spark of greatness that would do me well in Slytherin. And I chose Slytherin.’ He started to pick at the label. ‘Not for the spark of greatness. But this cool guy I’d just met got Sorted into Slytherin. And my family were in Gryffindor, but I was already tied to them by blood.’ Scorpius would have replied, but his jaw had fallen somewhere under the bed and he wasn’t sure he was up to fishing around for it. ‘Stop looking at me like that.’ 

Finally, Scorpius managed to close his mouth. And now he didn’t know what to say, except, ‘You crazy bastard.’ 

Albus grinned. ‘Crazy like a _snake_.’ 

‘That doesn’t even make sense.’ 

His grin turned distant. ‘James decided to have it out with me before we left. Decided to blame me for everything going wrong in my family.’ 

‘I think - and I’m not sure about this, but I’m pretty certain it’s right, because this bright guy told me it once - that we’re not responsible for what our parents do. What our families do.’ Scorpius veered his mind away from the row with Rose. This wasn’t about this. This was about Albus. 

‘I know. And you’re right. Or he’s right. Or _I_ _’m_ right - whatever.’ Albus’ lips thinned. ‘It was still a bit ridiculous. _Him_ having a go at _me_ for upsetting everyone. Even if I did, a lot, and in something more serious than a tabloid scandal.’ 

‘It was a pretty good scandal.’ 

‘I mean - the point I’m making is - he and I have never been as close as I wanted. He’s my brother, and I love him, but we don’t have much in common, we don’t have that much to… to bind us. Blood. He’s the brother of my blood.’ Albus drew a slow, awkward breath, and again studied the window. ‘You’re the brother of my choice.’ 

Silence fell, a low, awkward silence, and Scorpius cleared his throat before trying to speak. ‘You - you’re basically the family that actually matters to me, you know that?’ Albus just gave a stiff nod, and Scorpius winced. ‘Bloody hell. Give me another beer.’ 

Albus grinned at last, but he moved the box away. ‘Nah. Go talk to Rose.’ 

Scorpius’ chest tightened. ‘I thought we were having a beer.’ 

‘We did. We had a beer. And now you need to go talk to her.’ 

‘You don’t even know what’s wrong.’ 

‘I don’t, and I’m not the guy you need to talk to about it. And to a certain extent, the less I know about you two and your various woes, the happier I’ll be.’ Albus smiled to take a sting out of the gibe. ‘Come on. She’s miserable. You’re miserable. If you pissed her off, go say sorry. If she pissed _you_ off, go give her the chance to say sorry.’ 

‘Thank you for accepting the chance that I’m not the one in the wrong.’ 

‘Are you the one in the wrong?’ 

‘Astonishingly, this time I think I’m _not_.’ It was an odd sensation. ‘I don’t want to be angry at her any more.’ 

‘Then go on. Get back to your cabin.’ Albus waggled the box. ‘And if it goes horribly wrong, we’ll have another beer. And I promise I won’t press unless you want to talk.’ 

Scorpius stood, shoulders slumping. ‘All right. Thanks, mate.’ He slipped out the door, into the gloomy corridor below decks that ran between the cabins. For a luxury magical boat, it wasn’t the biggest vessel in the world - but it was meant to be cosy, he mused, meant to be a close and comfortable. Which was ideal right up until he wanted some distance from people. Their expedition wouldn’t give them any more space in the future. And he had no desire to be fighting with Rose when they got to their destination. 

He hesitated at the door to her cabin. They’d rowed before, of course, seemingly countless times; they’d even rowed when it had been more her fault than his. But he’d dealt with that badly every time, and by the time they’d reconciled they’d both had things to apologise for. Scorpius had the creeping sensation that today he was the truly wronged party. It was an unusual feeling. He rapped on the door, and reached for the handle when he heard her voice from inside. 

She was sat on the bed, curled up by candlelight with one of the books she hadn’t lost in Kythos, because she’d not done enough reading on Kythos to unpack them. He’d made sure she was distracted. But she looked up as he shut the door behind him, and her face flushed. ‘Scorp…’ 

He clasped his hands behind his back, resting them on the doorknob. ‘Hey,’ he said at length. How, exactly, was he supposed to request an apology? 

But she put the book to one side and slid across the bed to perch on the edge. He hadn’t been so acutely aware of the distance between them in a long time; for months he could reach for her when he chose, and for weeks before that he’d been too caught up in the crisis to feel that crackle. 

‘Hey, yourself,’ she said. And then nothing else. She sounded tense and fraught, and he figured he’d surprised her. There was no practised speech to make this all better, and he had no idea what to say to fill the silence which wasn’t horribly accusatory. And he’d _done_ hurting her because he was hurt. 

‘If something’s on your mind,’ he settled on, ‘I want to help. But not if you’re going to use my father as a tool to push me away. I’ve spent half my life trying to shake the damage he’s done. But we’re in a crisis, of course - when are we ever _not_ in a crisis - and I don’t like fighting with you, and -’ 

‘I’m sorry,’ she blurted out, and the knot in his gut eased. ‘It was wrong of me to use your father to distract you, I just - I needed time to work on some stuff in my head and I wasn’t sure how to tell you that.’ 

‘Um. Like that?’ 

She didn’t get up, hands tensing on the blankets. ‘Would you have accepted that?’ 

He blinked. ‘What?’ 

‘Would you have gone, “Oh, okay,” and given me space, or would you have fussed some more?’ 

Scorpius bit his lip. ‘That’s a fair question. But in my defence, you didn’t give me the chance to find out.’ 

She dropped her gaze. ‘I know. I _am_ sorry. But that was what I was afraid of. Partly. I was more afraid I’d talk to you and you’d think I was a bad person.’ 

He sat next to her with a sigh. ‘Now you’re making no kinds of crazy sense. And you’re meant to be the smart one.’ 

‘Yeah. The smart one. The one who does the magic others can’t. Like Legilimency.’ 

‘What’s _that_ got to do with anything?’ 

‘Albus didn’t _ask_ me to read Lisa’s mind. He implied it, sure, but he didn’t ask me outright, and I did it anyway to - I don’t know. Save him from himself? Stop him from having to make such a vicious decision? And so _I_ chose todo it.’ 

‘Um.’ Scorpius was doing well for eloquence tonight, he thought. ‘Yes. And it helped.’ 

‘Do you want me in _your_ head?’ She looked at him sharply. ‘I mean, really in your head. Everything you think and feel laid bare.’ He hesitated, and her expression twisted. ‘And if I did it _anyway_ , crept in there while you slept -’ 

‘Okay, okay. Point made.’ 

‘And you’re someone who _trusts_ me. We’ve been through so much and _you_ don’t want me in your head - and I don’t blame you for that, I mean, that’s _normal_. But I did that to someone on our side. And not for specific facts; I didn’t _care_ about what I learnt about Paquet, we just needed it. I’ll hopefully never see her again. And I didn’t go far into Lisa’s thoughts, but I could have. Every time I see her, I think, “I’ve seen parts of you that you never chose to show me.” She’s our friend. Our ally. And I violated her privacy in the most fundamental way possible.’ 

‘This is what’s been on your mind? That I’d think you were a bad person?’ He reached for her hand. ‘Rose, how could I _ever_ judge you -’ 

‘You _should_.’ She slid away from him. ‘That’s - yeah. That’s what I _thought_ I was afraid of. But this is really it. That I’d do it, and that you wouldn’t care.’ Slowly her gaze raised to meet his, dark eyes blazing in the candlelight. ‘What’s this quest doing to us, Scorpius?’ 

His throat went dry. ‘You didn’t care when I killed someone.’ 

‘I did. The difference is that while it happened and had to happen, it’s _not_ something we think is okay, and it’s not something we want to do again. If you had your time over, you’d try to find another way.’ Her expression tightened. ‘But I had all the time in the world and still did what I -’ 

‘Stop it.’ He grabbed her hand again, too quick for her to pull back. ‘We’re in a tough spot and we’re doing tough things - and the answer to that isn’t for us to rip ourselves apart with guilt, it’s for us to stick _together_. To help each other. We try to do right, and maybe sometimes we falter, and maybe sometimes the paths are going to push us into dark places, but we return to the light because we _guide_ one another.’ His gaze flickered across her face. ‘Like you guide me. Like you’ve always guided me.’ 

‘Not always.’ The slightest guilty smile tugged at her lips. ‘There was a time I thought you were a little shit.’ 

‘To be fair, I’m still a bit of a little shit.’ He returned the smile encouragingly. ‘I’m not going to tell you that you were right or wrong to do what you did. Because, hell, I don’t know about a cosmic balance of good and evil. What I _do_ know is that you’re a good person. And if this means that you don’t want to do that again, then I will be here next time you doubt. I will help you find another way, or help you live with the uncertainty and guilt of doing nothing at all.’ 

Her grip on his hand tightened like a vice, and he managed to not wince. He could see relief flooding through her, and the tightness in his chest loosened at the knowledge that he could still help, still reach her. Still make all of this better. When she spoke, her voice was lower, more distant. ‘I’ve been trying to remember,’ she murmured, ‘when I first called you by your first name.’ 

‘After Tim died,’ he said without missing a beat. ‘I remember because I yelled at you for it - for coming close in a crisis after pushing me away. And, you know, I felt guilty about that.’ 

‘We’ve got a _lot_ of guilt,’ said Rose with a frown. 

‘I hear it’s bad for you.’ 

She met his gaze, and he was astonished to find a glint of fear there. He wasn’t used to her being uncertain in these things; she was always so righteous, so _sure_. For years he’d found it as annoying as it was entrancing. ‘I’m willing to let go if you are.’ 

He leaned in, rested his forehead against hers, and never broke eye contact as they brushed noses. ‘I forgive you for yesterday,’ he murmured. ‘Maybe I’m not the one to forgive you for the rest, but I know you, and I _trust_ you, and I believe in you.’ 

Her eyelids fluttered, breath catching in her throat. ‘I didn’t dare come after you; I was too horrified with myself. And I didn’t think you’d come…’ 

‘Course I did,’ Scorpius breathed, and lifted his fingertips to trace along her jaw, then up to play with the springy, defiant lock of hair that always made him want to kiss her. ‘I’ll come back every time.’ 

‘Every time.’ But her voice was just a low murmur, and then her lips were on his. One hand tangled up in the hair at the nape of his neck; the other was at his collar, grasping his shirt to hold him close. ‘I couldn’t bear you thinking less of me,’ she whispered against his mouth. 

‘How could I?’ He kissed her before she could answer, kissed her because he had to, because he’d burn if he didn’t. And it wasn’t enough; still wasn’t enough, so his touch at her shoulder pressed her down, pinning her on the bed under him, breath and thought and bodies mingling into one. ‘And I mean it.’ 

Their hands were teasing past clothes to reach for warm, bare skin, and it seemed to take a physical effort for her to summon the wherewithal to murmur, ‘Mean what?’ 

‘Every time.’ He locked his eyes on hers, letting his mouth brush against her lower lip but not closer, and her body arched under his to press them together. ‘I’m not just being cute. To hell with arguments. To hell with it _all_. To hell with golem-dragons and Prometheus Thane and Eridanos itself if it comes to it; nothing will keep me from you.’ 

‘Then don’t let it.’ Her words hummed at her throat as he kissed the curve of her neck, running through his body by feel as well as sound, and he looked up again, confused. ‘Don’t hold back tonight.’ 

His breath caught. ‘Are you sure?’ 

The firelight caught her smile in response, and he couldn’t fight off a shiver as her fingertips ran up his spine. ‘I guess you do need to ask when _I_ _’m_ seducing _you_. For the record, this is it.’ 

He would always remember that moment, Scorpius thought. The candlelight playing like fire in her hair, fire in her eyes. The utter certainty and trust in her gaze, enough to soothe his hesitation. The warmth in her touch, enough to remind him that while there was darkness ahead, and trials and woes to come, all that mattered here and now was her. He kissed her again, and this time he did not hold back. 

It would be a lie to say that everything was perfect. They had their fair share of awkward fumbles, unfortunate bumps, but it was nothing that a pleased giggle and another kiss couldn’t fix, and then they were lost to the moment, to each other, again. He’d been scared with Miranda, Scorpius remembered - excited and overwhelmed too much to fall to the fear, but it had been there, and it was a fear that had burned him when she went on to hurt him. There was no fear now. No fear that Rose would hurt him, no fear that he would let her down - let her down in the long run, let her down by ruining the moment. 

It was imperfect, but they didn’t care because they were together, and that made it perfect. 

They did not say anything for a long time in the aftermath, tangled up in the sheets, the low candlelight, and each other, bodies worn and warm together. There was nothing words could say their intimacy had not, and so Scorpius was half asleep, fingers entangled in her hair, her head making a pillow of his shoulder, before the first wry thought struck him. 

‘I thought,’ he murmured, and she made a low, tired noise of protest against his neck at the sound, ‘that we were going to properly talk about stuff, all responsible and the like.’ 

She lifted her head, eyelids low, gaze sleepy as she regarded him. ‘I thought my words were _perfectly_ clear, Malfoy.’ They laughed, though after a moment her expression sobered, and she bit her lip. ‘Are you sure about where we’re going?’ 

He frowned. ‘If Matt thinks the Bahamas are -’ 

‘I mean where we’re staying.’ 

‘I’ve not told you where we’re staying.’ 

‘You’ve not needed to.’ Her gaze didn’t falter, certain and trusting. 

He kissed her forehead. ‘It’ll be fine.’ _I hope_. But that was another day’s problem, and tonight he just had her to keep his focus, and that was more than enough for one world.

* * 

‘We want San Salvador,’ said Matt as they climbed the steps leading from the pier up to the tall, sunlit house that sat on the cliff, gazing down at the endless Caribbean seas. ‘So why are we here?’ 

‘We need somewhere to stay. The boat can get us to San Salvador in about an hour. But I’m not _living_ on that boat throughout the bloody search, Doyle,’ said Scorpius, springing to the front of the group. 

He’d been springing about a lot, lately, Matt thought. Grinning like a fool since their second morning on the boat, and Rose, too, and he’d put two and two together and decided he didn’t like maths much any more. 

‘Then where _is_ this?’ asked Selena, and though she didn’t look at Matt, he still gave her a glance of gratitude that someone else wasn’t happy to indulge Scorpius’ mysterious bullshit. 

‘You’ll see,’ was all he said, and kept on up the steps. So he didn’t see Selena’s eye-roll, and if he heard Matt’s grumble he didn’t react, and he certainly didn’t spot even Albus and Rose exchanging a wary look. 

‘Fancy place,’ Lisa mused as they reached the huge front door, bathed in shadow by the row of palm trees along the short path between steps and house. 

‘And paid for,’ said Scorpius, rapping the giant knocker, ‘by the very _best_ oppression of the downtrodden of Britain.’ 

It took a second for Matt to turn those words over in his head, and so he only realised what was going on, where they were, when the door opened to reveal a tall, dark-haired witch with an easy, sunny smile. It was a familiar smile, even though it turned to shock at the sight of them, and it was the final piece in the puzzle that no longer needed solving when Scorpius returned the exact same grin and opened his arms. 

‘Hi, Mum.’ 


	40. The Gleaming

Astoria Malfoy, née Astoria Greengrass, did not look much like her son. His poise was his father’s, the golden hair was his father’s, even his eyes were mostly his father’s, if bluer and brighter. Though Scorpius had once bragged that he’d had the best of both worlds, there; the golden locks of the Malfoy family, with none of the risk of a receding hairline before he was forty. That was the way of it, Rose agreed as she regarded them both. Scorpius was the perfect picture of a scion of the Malfoy lineage, but his mother had softened the edges. Added the faintest roundness to his face which made it chiselled rather than pointed. Added the smiles which he would never have learnt from Draco. 

They were good smiles, Astoria’s smiles. They were warm and welcoming, and jovial while making it clear she didn’t take herself too seriously. It was easy to see how a man could fall in love with her, and Rose was left reflecting that perhaps there had been some softness in Draco Malfoy if he could love a woman’s smile. 

It made her wonder how much colder he’d become when he lost her. 

‘Of _course_ you can stay for as long as you like,’ Astoria was saying as she waved a hand for tall, cool glasses of juice to hover from the kitchen into the sitting room. Floor-to-ceiling windows gave a view of the ocean, made all the more dazzling by the sun that reflected off the waters and streamed into the house. ‘I always told Scorp he was welcome to stop by _any_ time.’ 

‘I would have sent word ahead, Mum. But it’s - I mean, you can’t tell people we’re here. It’s awkward, I know, and I’m sorry.’ 

‘I’ve had the chance to see you again after thinking I’d lost you forever.’ Astoria put a hand on his arm. ‘I think the least I can do is keep a little secret.’ 

‘We’re much obliged, Mrs Malfoy,’ said Albus, and then looked horrified with himself for having not checked what to call her. 

She flinched. ‘Call me Astoria. It’s quite all right, Albus.’ 

‘I mean…’ Albus winced. ‘We really do need this to be kept private. This isn’t a holiday.’ 

‘I know. I read the papers. Though we’ve not really had much, or anything, of this Council of Thorns out here; it’s been very peaceful. I don’t know what they might be up to that would draw your attention.’ 

‘Don’t worry about it, Mum.’ Scorpius smiled. ‘We shouldn’t be more than a week, maybe two; we won’t be underfoot for long.’ 

‘Nonsense. You can stay as long as you like.’ Astoria swatted his arm affectionately, then swept to her feet. ‘But I’ll sort out some space for you. There are more than enough guest rooms, and with how big this place is, nobody’s going to be in the way.’ 

Then she left, and Rose took advantage of her departure to seek Albus’ gaze. They made eye-contact for only a moment, but it was enough for her to know they were thinking much the same thing. He leaned back on the sofa once she was gone, and cleared his throat. ‘This makes a good base of operations while we’re out here. The ship was a little cramped.’ 

‘It would suffice,’ Lisa pointed out. ‘Do we want to put our location in the hands of someone else?’ 

‘She’s my mother,’ said Scorpius. ‘We can trust her.’ 

Lisa’s expression suggested she thought family ties didn’t count for matters of operational security, but she said nothing, much to Rose’s relief. Even if she struggled to disagree. ‘Where do we start, then?’ Rose asked instead, and looked at Matt. 

He reached into his pocket to pull out the papers from de Sablé. ‘San Salvador, like I said. It’s the first place Columbus made landfall when he found the New World, but of course, the Templar wizards were out here _before_ then. De Sablé said Columbus went there specifically because his Templar navigators sought the island out.’ 

‘Except they didn’t find anything?’ Rose’s brow furrowed. 

‘Columbus’ expedition didn’t find a trace of them, no. But those aren’t the papers I’m working off. Another expedition a few hundred years later went to San Salvador, and _they_ found clues which they said were putting them on the right path. There’s a mention of a hermitage atop a mountain, and a passageway at the foot of it.’ 

‘Except then the letters _stopped_ ,’ prompted Selena. ‘And that third expedition, though confident they were on the right track…’ 

‘Disappeared without a trace,’ said Matt. ‘Yes.’ 

‘So, a hermitage on San Salvador. There shouldn’t be too many of them,’ said Albus. 

‘What _is_ a hermitage?’ asked Scorpius. ‘I know, I know, a place where a hermit lives, but that sounds more like “shack” to me.’ 

‘Maybe hermits can live in nice places,’ said Selena. 

Matt sighed. ‘It’s a kind of monastery. It was for a _group_ of religious people to live in isolation. A closed-off settlement for spiritual purity, usually to allow for an ascetic way of life. In this case, I expect something at the top of a hill where the inhabitants could keep to themselves, but be close enough to a settlement to trade for what they needed.’ 

Albus nodded. ‘Okay, so. Find a hermitage on San Salvador. Any idea where to start?’ 

‘It’s not a small island,’ said Matt. ‘And the Book’s not connected to any decent sources. So I’d like to see if there’s anywhere nearby I can do some reading on the Bahamas. The place was foundby Columbus, but it wasn’t settled by Europeans until the seventeenth century, and Britain didn’t gain control of it until the eighteenth century. There was a lot of time of this region being left alone by the powers, at least formally. Which would be why, I imagine, the Templar expeditions lost track of who had gone where over the centuries.’ He looked at Scorpius. ‘Andros Island’s been inhabited by wizards for a while. I’d assume there’s a local magical library?’ 

‘I’ve been here, like, once. And I didn’t rush to the library.’ 

Albus lifted a hand. ‘Then that sounds like our plan. Get settled in, and try to find some information sources.’ 

Rose looked at him. ‘Once we’ve got our bearings, I’ll check in with Mum. And if we need _more_ information, she might be able to dig something up.’ 

‘Only if our own efforts have dried up. I want us using our own resources as much as possible.’ 

She nodded and got to her feet. ‘Then it sounds like you want to take a walk about the island. This town, at least, is entirely magical; you should be able to find your way.’ 

Scorpius raised an eyebrow at her. ‘And you’ll be…?’ 

Rose hefted her bag. ‘I’ve got most of our stuff. I might as well help your mum get us settled in. And I can offload everything from the ship so by the time you’re done, we’re all unpacked.’ 

‘Tackling Selena’s luggage.’ Matt stood. ‘You’re a brave woman.’ 

Selena stuck her nose in the air. ‘Just because I like to have an option of more than two t-shirts to wear -’ 

‘We lost everything to Fiendfyre and then after barely two shopping trips, you’ve already got a suitcase you could use to beat a man to death.’ 

‘And it’ll be you if you keep this up, Doyle.’ 

Albus stood, raising his hands. ‘So, let’s go for a walk.’ 

Scorpius looked at Rose. ‘Do you want some help?’ 

‘Don’t worry.’ She touched his arm, smiling. ‘This needs doing and I’ll give your mum a hand. You two should talk, but later, when I’m not underfoot.’ 

_And after I_ _’ve already spoken to her._   
  
He didn’t argue, happy after the journey, happy to be here - too happy to be cynical. So she felt guilty when they left, though it was a guilt assuaged by Albus’ knowing, reassuring look. He knew what she was doing. He understood - and he supported her. After her recent independent decisions, it felt good to be trusted. She didn’t like acting without telling Scorpius, but it was necessary, and she hoped her silence would not be needed for long. 

Astoria was in one of the upstairs corridors, in what Rose suspected was the guest _wing_ of the house. With a swish of the wand, linen flew from a cupboard on the landing and into the rooms, and she had to duck to avoid an errant pillow sweeping through the nearest door. 

‘Oh! Sorry!’ Astoria gave another sunny smile so like her son’s. ‘I’ve been making up six rooms, though you can use as many as you like.’ 

Had Rose’s intentions been less serious, she would have happily curled up and died at such a comment from her boyfriend’s mother. ‘We’ll manage, one way or another. I was just coming to see if you needed a hand, or I’ll unload everyone’s stuff from the ship.’ 

‘Don’t you worry about me. But it’s sweet of you to ask.’ Astoria lowered her wand and turned to her. ‘You don’t have to fuss about - I mean, well. I’m not Draco. I imagine he threw _quite_ the fit when he learnt about you.’ 

Anyone who knew Scorpius would have noticed the inferences when he’d introduced Rose. But she still felt the slightest jolt at the sense that Astoria was one step ahead of her in the conversation. ‘He wasn’t best pleased, no.’ 

‘I remember what he and your parents were like at school. Couldn’t _stand_ one another. And, well, he does have some very _old-fashioned_ ideas even in this day and age. But don’t worry. I don’t share those attitudes. I’ve had to listen to him drone on about it too much to find anything endearing about clinging to the past.’ 

Rose drew a slow, careful breath. ‘I imagine that’s partly why you left.’ 

Astoria stiffened. ‘Well. Yes.’ Then she waved an airy hand, and swished her wand for good measure, and the making of many beds continued. ‘It’s a complicated sort of matter, but so long as Scorpius is happy -’ 

‘Then he’s the priority for us both. Good. That’s something we have in common.’ Rose tilted her chin up half an inch. ‘Let me be blunt. I am not here because I’m seeking your approval, or your blessing. Though it would make life considerably easier for your son if _one_ of his parents respected his choices, and acknowledged what makes him happy.’ 

Astoria lowered her wand again, gaze going beady in a way which was wholly _unlike_ her son. ‘And you make him happy?’ It was a light question, the challenge very faint. 

Rose could read it well. She was testing the waters before they got too deep. ‘Your son’s very important to me. As is his happiness.’ 

‘Then we’re in agreement,’ said Astoria with a smile which didn’t reach her eyes. 

‘Glad to hear it. Because he’s had enough distress over the last few months. He’s had an incredibly tough time of it.’ 

‘It sounds like you all have.’ 

‘But especially him.’ Rose’s jaw tightened. ‘Which you’d know, if you’d showed the remotest interest in what’s been happening to him over the last year. If you’d written to him during the Hogwarts Crisis. If you’d come to see him once it was over. If you’d emerged from the woodwork when he was presumed _dead_. But you didn’t do any of that, did you?’ 

Astoria tucked her wand away slowly, deliberately. ‘Scorpius and his friends are welcome here, but you are not welcome to come and question my life choices -’ 

‘I don’t really _care_ about your choices. I care about Scorpius.’ Rose took a careful step forward. ‘He still thinks well of you. He thinks of you as the victim of his father’s cruelty, to the extent where he blames everything - _everything_ \- on Draco. Maybe he’s right; I don’t know. But you should know that he has yet to question why you never reached out to him in his times of direst need. That won’t last forever.’ 

She arched an eyebrow. ‘Because you’ll make him question?’ 

‘I want him _happy_ , not doubting. He already believes his father thinks him worthless. If he thinks _you_ think so little of him, too, then that will _break_ him.’ Rose lifted a hand, cutting off a response. ‘You’ve been running from whatever happened with you and his father for, what, four years? That’s your life, and I’m in no place to judge your choices. I _am_ in a place to judge how you treat your son. And he is in a place, right now, where he needs the utmost confidence, the utmost stability.’ 

Astoria cocked her head. ‘Then what _are_ you saying, my dear?’ she said, voice icy. That was a tone she knew. The tension in her son right before he unleashed something particularly unpleasant. The cold warning. 

‘This won’t last forever. He’s barely seen you for years, and that’s let him build up an idealised version of you. Nothing breaks ideals like reality. So all I ask of you is one of two things: Either you keep up appearances _very_ well, and you let him keep on believing what he believes… or you have a very frank conversation with your son about why you left for the far side of the world, and why you never reached out for him, even when he was at his most isolated.’ 

The other woman’s eyes narrowed. ‘And why do _you_ think I left?’ 

‘What I think isn’t especially relevant.’ 

‘Indulge me.’ 

Rose drew a slow breath. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know you. I just see a son who adores the memory of you, except your actions don’t match that illusion he’s constructed. I’ve seen what the active cruelty of his father did to him. I don’t want to see what cruel _neglect_ of his mother does to him. Tell him the truth; don’t tell him the truth… do as you wish. Just if you can’t be honest with him, don’t give him reason to be afraid. Because I guarantee the doubt will wriggle and worm away inside of him, and cause untold damage. Even if you don’t have to deal with it.’ 

‘But you will.’ Astoria’s voice went quiet, distant. 

‘I will.’ Rose sighed. ‘I’ll be there with him every step of the way. So consider this a preemptive measure to make sure that you don’t break him.’ 

Astoria looked away, gaze sweeping across the half-finished handiwork of making the guest bedrooms ready. ‘I have no desire to hurt him. He’s my son, and I love him.’ 

‘Good,’ said Rose. ‘But I believe his father loves him, too, and he’s still caused him unfathomable pain.’ 

Scorpius’ mother regarded her for a long moment, before her lips took on a wry twist that she suspected came more from her ex-husband. ‘I should have guessed that a Weasley girl wouldn’t romance my son without caring deeply for him. I’m glad he’s got that.’ She gave a slow, shaking exhale, but when she straightened it was for perfect poise to return. ‘You have a bargain. But right _now_ , he’s out in town and _I_ have to make the guest rooms for you and your friends ready.’ 

Rose nodded, and then it was like nothing had happened - that she hadn’t just confronted her boyfriend’s mother on her years of neglect in her son’s time of need. ‘I’ll go and get the luggage from the ship,’ she said, ‘and leave you to it.’ 

‘Yes,’ said Astoria Malfoy. ‘That might be best.’

* * 

‘Three days.’ Albus flopped onto the sand next to Matt and took a swig of water. ‘Three days, and no sign of anything.’ 

Matt ruffled through pages of de Sablé’s notes. ‘I’m doing the best I can. But these are records from the 18th century, and San Salvador has, what, sixty square miles of terrain?’ 

‘But only so many hills, and only so many hermitages. It’s not a criticism, just are you sure this is the place?’ 

He got an angry look for his trouble. ‘No. I’m not. I’m working off old letters from Templars who went _missing_ looking for this place - maybe their last letter was wrong? Maybe the site they wrote of _wasn_ _’t_ where they found something. Maybe the island’s changed, or there are magical protections, or -’ 

‘Matt.’ Albus kept his voice low, calm. ‘I’m not questioning you.’ 

‘Good, because you wouldn’t even _be_ here if it weren’t for me; you wouldn’t have found Ager Sanguinis and you wouldn’t have the context to decipher de Sablé’s writings, and the golem-dragon would have turned you into a _smear_ -’ 

Albus stood as Matt did, hands still raised placatingly. ‘I know. I _know_. And you’ve done damn good work, and no, we _wouldn_ _’t_ have got this far without you.’ 

Matt stopped, shoulders squaring. Then he looked away, down to the shoreline where their ship was moored. By the magical vessel it was only an hour’s journey from Andros Island to San Salvador, and they’d made the journey every morning for the last few days to hunt. The clues from de Sablé’s notes had shown nothing, the hints from the Templars’ messages had shown nothing, and everyone was fraying at the edges. ‘Well. Good. Thanks.’ 

‘Is that the first time we’ve said that?’ 

‘Yes. Maybe - I don’t know.’ 

‘Because the golem-dragon _was_ good work.’ 

‘I know it was good work, I threw myself into a damned stone dragon’s _mouth_ -’ 

‘And we’re grateful.’ Albus watched him, head tilting. ‘Something’s chewing you up.’ 

‘Which topic shall I choose?’ Matt’s gaze snapped back, the sea breeze blowing his hair into his face. ‘My ex-girlfriend being extra fawning over her new boyfriend, a guy I can’t _quite_ bring myself to hate? Being the fifth wheel because I wasn’t in the right place at the right time in a detention ten months ago, even though I have _carried_ your research here? The one person who -’ 

He cut himself off, and Albus’ brow furrowed. ‘The one person…?’ 

‘Never mind.’ Matt snapped the Book of Many Books shut. ‘I’m going to find some high ground, see if I can -’ 

‘You did that yesterday.’ 

‘And I’ll try again today!’ He waved an angry hand down the beach. ‘See how the girls are doing with _their_ efforts.’ 

There was a sneer to his voice, and Albus looked down at where Rose and Selena stood, weaving intricate patterns into the sand with long sticks. ‘You’re not pissed at Rose,’ he realised. ‘You’re pissed at Selena.’ 

‘No, I’m not.’ Matt’s expression went flat. ‘But she’s pissed at _me_ , apparently, and hell knows why. _I_ know that after all of this, when we get the Chalice, I am _done_ with the whole _bloody_ lot of you.’ 

Albus winced. ‘Matt, I’m sorry if we -’ 

‘It’s not your fault.’ He sounded angry, but not insincere. ‘You’ve just got your own joint background and your own bloody _damage_ , and maybe nobody was going to break into the gang with Methuselah Jones dead, _especially_ not someone else who came in with books to tell you what to do. But let’s not kid ourselves. You and Scorpius, and me? We’re not friends. You’re a good guy, Al, but we’re not friends. Lisa? Fuck knows what goes on with her. And Rose and I can get on like a house on fire, but that’s part of the fucking _problem_ , isn’t it, because I don’t _want_ to get on with her, I want her _out_ of my _head_ -’ Matt stopped and turned again, throwing a hand in the air. ‘And Selena one moment thinks I’m a friend worth talking to, the next rips into me like we’re Third Years having House wars, but now, worst of all, _ignores_ me. And I know that the most cutting weapon that girl has in her arsenal is disinterest.’ 

‘Not that I’m blaming you - I’m really not… but why did you come on this trip?’ Albus tried to sound as unaccusing as possible. 

Matt scowled at the sea. ‘Because I thought the travel sounded cool.’ He sighed. ‘And because Rose asked me, and I still don’t think there’s a thing in the world I wouldn’t do if she asked, and that is _still_ driving me _mental_.’ 

‘You know she -’ 

‘I know she loves him. I know she’s not going to stop. I know she likes me as a friend but is incredibly awkward and that it’ll never be anything else. I know there is _no_ way you can finish that sentence in a way which doesn’t suck for me.’ Matt tucked the Book under his arm. ‘So I am going to go find some high ground where I can see a lot and _think_. So I don’t have to watch Rose being brilliant and Selena trying too hard to not look in my direction.’ 

‘Matt…’ But he was gone, leaving Albus stood forlornly at the top of the beach without the words to make things better. He wasn’t used to that. Normally he could find _something_ \- even if he couldn’t fix woes, he could usually brighten somebody’s day. But not Matthias Doyle, and not today. 

With a sigh he slouched down the beach to the others. ‘Won’t the tide wash this away?’ 

Rose was kneeling, etching more intricate markings with a smaller stick. ‘We’ll be done by then.’ 

‘What’re you actually trying to do? How’s this going to help?’ 

‘It’s a simple amplification ritual,’ said Selena, voice holding that faint edge he knew meant she was reciting something she’d learnt from Methuselah. ‘It’ll pool power so Rose can pull off a bigger detection spell. So we can stop traipsing around the bloody island to see if we can get any kind of trace of the Chalice of Emrys’ magic.’ 

‘Sand is good for this kind of magic. Rituals are usually more permanent, but for something short-term, I can cook up a complicated series of ritual markings with minimal effort. And magic travels through sand reasonably effectively; the individual grains provide less of an obstacle for -’ 

‘I get it.’ Albus lifted a hand to forestall further explanation. ‘You think this will show you where the Chalice is?’ 

‘Perhaps. Depending on how far away it is, or _was_ , or if anything’s blocking off the trace of its magical signature.’ Rose tucked a springy lock of hair behind her ear. ‘Where’s Matt off to?’ 

‘High ground.’ 

‘Again?’ 

‘He was upset.’ Albus shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘You tell me why.’ 

Rose and Selena exchanged glances. Rose seemed apprehensive, Selena was wearing one of her masks, and neither one of them blinked. He wondered if they were even telling one another what was going on - and then remembered that one of them would have looked more accusing if they’d known. 

‘I’ve no clue,’ said Rose with a sigh. ‘I try to not - it’s awkward.’ 

‘He’s not exactly been thrilled lately, with you and Scorpius pawing at each other _extra_.’ Selena rolled her eyes. ‘You could be a bit more discreet about the fact that you’re now shagging like rabbits -’ 

Rose got to her feet, cheeks colouring. ‘How do you know if he’s thrilled or not, seeing as you’ve barely _looked_ at him for the better part of a _week_ now -’ 

‘I don’t need to be close to the guy to see he’s upset about this.’ 

‘No, but if you’re going to get in my face on someone else’s behalf, at least make it someone you appear to give the slightest damn about.’ 

Selena’s lips thinned - then without another word she turned on her heel and stalked off down the beach, long hair blowing in the breeze behind her. 

Rose sighed, lifting a hand to her temple. ‘I’m not sure I’m sorry for that.’ 

‘I’m not sure you should be.’ Albus winced. ‘Though you could have been more diplomatic.’ 

‘We can’t _all_ be the epitome of calm in the face of hypocrisy.’ She grimaced. ‘I’ll talk to her. Later. But she’s been blanking Matt, and so I don’t want her acting like _I_ _’ve_ been the insensitive one around him.’ Rose paused. ‘ _Have_ we been that obvious?’ 

‘I make a point of not trying to decipher the subtle intricacies of how much my best friend and cousin are canoodling.’ Albus gave a grin to take the sting out of his words. ‘But. Er. Has it been obvious you’re together and _extra_ happy? Yes. Maybe it’s just that I know you guys were rowing, so I spotted the difference…’ 

Rose went even more red, and he was grateful yet again he’d inherited his father’s colouring. ‘I’d been an idiot.’ 

‘It was probably your turn.’ 

She knelt next to the ritual. ‘I know you didn’t ask me to Legilimens Lisa -’ 

‘I basically did.’ 

‘Yes, but I wanted to do it before you had to _tell_ me to.’ 

‘That doesn’t get me off the hook, you know? It’s being weaselly about words for me to act like we didn’t know exactly what was going on, just because I was vague.’ 

‘As opposed to telling me to do it, and to hell with the consequences - which is being Weasley about words.’ Rose’s lips twisted. ‘Okay, that’s a terrible joke. But you know… she really does… I don’t know the word. “Like,” you sounds too loaded, or vague. Respect you?’ She shrugged. ‘There’s a bond.’ 

Albus rolled a shoulder. ‘I trust her. She’s an asset to the team.’ 

‘And?’ 

‘And anything else can, I think, wait until all of this is over. She’s got a life outside of the Chalice hunt, _I_ _’ve_ got a life outside of the Chalice hunt.’ 

‘It’s weird, isn’t it.’ Rose looked to the seas. ‘In a bit over two months, we’ll be back at Hogwarts. Normal Hogwarts. That feels like a lifetime ago.’ 

‘Only if we’re done here.’ 

‘Speaking of which, I’d better get this ritual done.’ She stood, dusting herself off. 

‘Do you need anyone else for this?’ 

‘Some magic can’t hurt. But just you and I should be able to pull it off. And by the time we’re done, _hopefully_ Lisa and Scorpius are done with their search, and Selena and Matt are back from their sulks.’ 

Albus wasn’t that familiar with rituals, which he knew was odd when he’d played an integral role in disarming one of the most harmful rituals in modern history. But he knew how to follow instructions, and Rose knew what she was doing, so he could pool his power in the circle itself, allow her to draw on it to amplify the spells she’d used so many times to search for that trace of familiar magic that was in the Chalice of Emrys. 

A search to the north. A search to the east. A search to the south. And the west was the ocean, and she only did that fourth spell for the sake of completion, but none of them showed anything. By the time they were done the tide was rising, and Scorpius and Lisa had come back to sit at the top of the beach and watch the procedure without interrupting - but it was clear they hadn’t found anything, either. As the magic died, shapes on the horizon suggested Matt and Selena were coming back, too. 

Rose sighed and lowered her wand. ‘Nothing. Not a thing on this island. Either its trace was never here, or it’s too faint for me to find from this distance, or it’s somehow shielded, protected.’ 

‘It was never shielded in Paris, or Ager Sanguinis; why would it be shielded now?’ 

‘The Templars accepted the Chalice was missing after that last expedition never came back. Maybe there was a reason, maybe this was _meant_ to be its final resting place, maybe it was being properly _hidden_ as opposed to… I mean, it wasn’t hidden from everyone in Ager Sanguinis, and the tomb was first somewhere to keep it, then a _fake_ hiding place. We’ve never looked for somewhere the Chalice was when _nobody_ was meant to find it.’ Rose tucked her wand away. ‘I think we need to make a call for help.’ 

Albus grimaced. ‘You know we need to compartmentalise information -’ 

‘Except we can communicate more securely, now, and it’s been three days.’ She shrugged. ‘We need the big guns.’

* * 

‘I will find everything I can about the magical history of the Bahamas,’ said Hermione’s patronus as they all sat on the deck of their ship. ‘And I’ll get it put in the Hogwarts library so that you can access it from the Book.’ 

Rose had explained that she could just talk to her mother in private, projecting her patronus internationally using the ship’s own Floo system - or, once the connection was made, Hermione could project back, and thus talk to them all. Scorpius had agreed it sounded more logical to let Hermione see all of them, even if it was an uncomfortable reminder of times at Hogwarts. 

Matt nodded. ‘I don’t know what use it’ll be. But it’s better than nothing.’ 

‘I’ll do it tonight. So, with the time difference, you should have it by tomorrow morning.’ The otter looked across at the six of them. ‘How are you all? Are you well?’ 

‘We’re fine, Mum,’ said Rose. ‘We’re just hitting some brick walls. We knew we were chasing a vague thread out here, but we’re not out for the count yet.’ 

‘Good.’ The patronus paused. ‘So I hate to distract you, but there’s… there’s something you might be able to help with, and something you might _want_ to help with.’ 

Albus sat up. ‘We’re listening.’ 

‘Have you heard of Brillig Island?’ 

Matt answered, of course. ‘One of the Caribbean’s completely magical island communities.’ 

‘It was also one of the latest places to be hit by Eridanos. And when I say latest, I mean “last” - the Task Force genuinely suspects that we’re on the verge of wiping out the plague, that we’ve destroyed the Council’s caches of the plague and removed their capacity to make any more.’ 

‘So what’s the problem?’ said Scorpius. 

The otter tensed in that way he could recognise by now. It was odd to find an animal’s body language familiar. ‘The Task Force envoys we sent there have gone dark. They were meant to check in this morning; they have not and we can’t find anything about the area. I would send a team, but there’s one problem - they had the Resurrection Stone with them. Anyone I send onto that island to recover them is going to be at risk of infection.’ 

‘You want us to go take a look?’ said Albus. 

‘That’s the last thing I want,’ sighed Hermione. ‘ _But_ , four of you still have an immunity to Phlegethon which we know extends to Eridanos.’ 

‘How do you know that?’ 

‘Because Nathalie Lockett has managed to operate freely in Eridanos-afflicted zones. Which is one of the reason why we’ve sent her as the team leader in many of our field expeditions to cure and cleanse Eridanos.’ Another hesitation. ‘And she was the team leader for this expedition.’ 

Scorpius shot to his feet. ‘We’re going.’ 

Albus also got up. ‘We need to discuss this properly.’ 

‘Don’t answer right away. You’ve got a job to do, and it’s late evening where you are, and you are _not_ going to an Eridanos-afflicted zone at night. I’m a few hours behind you,’ said Hermione. ‘Discuss it, and I’ll gather the information we have. I _can_ seek and send another team, and try another way. And also I’m going to be yelled at by at least four people for telling you about this.’ 

Albus didn’t tear his gaze off Scorpius, though when he spoke it was in that low, calm voice which would brook no opposition. ‘Give us an hour, Aunt Hermione. Then we’ll get in touch again.’ Silence remained once the patronus winked out of existence, and still Albus didn’t move. ‘We have to think about this, Scorp.’ 

‘We really don’t. We’re going to Brillig.’ 

Matt cleared his throat. ‘We can’t stop to chase everything the Council do. We’re after the Chalice -’ 

Scorpius reeled to face him, heart thudding, palms sweating. He couldn’t unleash this boiling frustration on Albus, but Matt was fit to be a target. ‘Professor Lockett saved the lives of _everyone_ at Hogwarts. She cured Phlegethon. Without her, we would all be dead, and you would _certainly_ be dead. We owe her. We’re going to get her.’ 

Scowling, Matt stood. ‘And if we show up on the Council’s radar on Brillig Island, then they’ll know we’re in the Bahamas! That gives them a lead!’ 

‘They might not be there, and I don’t _care_ ,’ Scorpius snapped. 

Rose was on her feet, reaching for his arm. ‘Scorp -’ 

‘I can’t even believe this matter is up for discussion! She cured Phlegethon and she saved us.’ 

‘By sitting in her room for about two months getting drunk?’ asked Selena, voice arch. 

‘Okay, that’s enough!’ Albus raised his hands as he raised his voice, eyes flashing. ‘Scorpius has a point. We’re in a position to help her, and she needs help. But Matt isn’t wrong. We’re trying to keep out of the Council’s way, and this diverts from the hunt for the Chalice, and it alerts them to our presence in the area.’ 

‘Not to mention,’ said Rose, voice tight, ‘that only four of us are immune to Eridanos. Matt and Lisa _aren_ _’t_.’ 

Lisa wore an expression suggesting she’d rather not be dragged into this, but Scorpius waved a dismissive hand at Matt. ‘Fine. Then he can stay behind like the coward he is and pore over books. We owe her our lives, our families’ lives.’ 

There were times Scorpius forgot that Matt was a tall guy, a little taller than him, even. But then the other man was in his face, the two of them nose-to-nose, and Scorpius had to tilt his chin up to make eye-contact, resenting even that minor concession. ‘Don’t lecture me on what my family owes people,’ Matt growled. ‘Not _you_.’ 

‘And what’s _that_ supposed to mean?’ Scorpius’ fist clenched. 

A shape shoved itself between them, and Scorpius first thought it was Albus, pulling them apart. It wasn’t. It was Rose, planting her hands on their chests, pushing them both back. ‘This is _ridiculous._ We’re on the same side and we can _talk_ about this without _snarling_ like territorial werewolves!’ 

‘ _All_ I bloody did was point out the reasons we might not want to run off half-cocked!’ Matt barked, leaning against Rose’s restraining hand. ‘The world revolves around more than your _whims_ , Malfoy! Other people can care about things and have opinions!’ 

‘And I can still call you a damned ungrateful coward for yours -’ 

Then Rose wasn’t enough to keep them apart, and Matt was swinging for him. The blow would have connected if Albus hadn’t been there to grab his arm, but the opportunist in Scorpius told him to advance, not back off, and a restrained Matt wouldn’t have much chance to protect himself - 

The flash of magic sent them all flying away from one another, landing on their backs and, for a moment, dazzled and stunned by the burst of energy. It was harmless but it separated them, and it was enough, just enough, to break the moment. 

‘There are times,’ came Lisa’s flat voice, ‘that I forget you’re still schoolchildren. This isn’t one of these them. Debating whether to go save an ally should _not_ be bringing you to blows.’ 

Matt shrugged off Albus arm and got to his feet, expression still twisted. ‘Probably not, no,’ he spat. ‘But you debate it. I’m done discussing it. Make your choices, like you lot _always_ do, and I’ll just sit in the back and read the fucking books to tell you the answer.’ Then he turned, stalking down the gangway off the ship and onto the pier, and disappeared into the gathering dusk of the shore of San Salvador. 

Scorpius snorted as he disappeared. ‘That makes it easier. But what makes this easiest is that I paid for this ship, and this ship is going to Brillig.’ 

‘Oh, for _fuck_ _’s_ sake, Scorpius.’ He started at that, because it was Rose, glaring at him. She just shook her head. ‘We vote. I vote we go after Professor Lockett. And you lot can go round and round in circles all you like, but I’ll send a message to Mum within the hour, whatever you decide.’ Then she, too, headed for the pier. 

Scorpius squinted at her. ‘Where are you going?’ 

‘After Matt! Because you’re being an arse!’ 

Then she was gone, and the pounding in his chest started to fade to be replaced by a sense of gathering shame. _Good work, Malfoy. Done it again._ He turned to the others, voice dropping. ‘All right,’ he said, now half-mumbling. ‘What do you think?’ 

Lisa shrugged. ‘I bow to the so-called wisdom of the masses.’ 

Albus grimaced. ‘I want to help her,’ he said quietly. 

Selena rolled her eyes. ‘Which leaves the deciding vote with me, if we want a majority. I don’t think the sun shone out of Professor Lockett’s arse like you do, Scorpius, but if we can help her, we should.’ Then she turned away and towards the quarterdeck of the ship. ‘But there’s nothing we can do for now. So _I_ am going to sort out some dinner. _You_ can ruminate on how you’ve just pissed off your girlfriend so much she’s run off after her ex to try to make him feel better.’ 

She left, and Lisa slunk after her, and Albus looked sympathetic but didn’t say anything, so Scorpius glowered at the gloom. He knew Selena, knew she’d just said that to hurt, and knew that he did rather deserve it. 

It didn’t make it stab less deep. 


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Brillig Island, an entirely magical community, is my own invention, though you may see the inspiration from 'The Jabberwocky' and 'Monkey Island'._

‘Matt!’ 

He was halfway down the beach on his second storming off of the day and now he was being chased by the last person he wanted to see. Anyone else he could tell to bugger off. Or, if it was Scorpius, punch in his smug, stupid face. But not Rose. He couldn’t bring himself to - 

‘Piss off, Rose.’ Okay. Maybe he could bring himself to. But she was still coming up alongside him. The fat orange sun struck rays of gold in her hair, and he tried to not look directly at her in case she blinded him. Like she so often did. 

‘Matt, please.’ Her hand was at his arm and that, too, burned. So he stopped, pulled away, and saw the flicker of hurt she tried to hide as he rounded on her. ‘What do you want?’ _What can you possibly say to make this better?_   
  
‘He was wrong. Okay? He was out of line and I’m pissed off at him, too -’ 

Matt’s lip curled. ‘Yes, right up until he says he’s sorry, with big puppy-dog eyes, and then you fall back into bed with him.’ This wasn’t fair, he knew it wasn’t fair, but he couldn’t stand there and listen to how much she disapproved of her boyfriend. A man who had done this sort of thing before, and would do it again, and she’d forgive him far easier than Matt ever did. 

‘He’s just upset. Lockett means a lot to him. And - I’m not defending him.’ Rose lifted a hand, like he was a horse about to bolt if she didn’t edge close enough to grab the reins. ‘I’m really not. That’s the “why”, and it’s not okay. But it’s not about you. It’s not what he really thinks of you.’ 

‘That’s sweet.’ Matt’s voice was flat. ‘We don’t need you to tell me what he _really_ thinks of me. If he doesn’t _mean_ to be that much of a prick, then he can say that himself instead of you playing interpreter and peacemaker so I don’t make things _awkward_ for you by being the exwho can’t stand your boyfriend!’ He hadn’t wanted to shout. He was so angry he knew if he started, he wouldn’t stop - and indeed, his voice rolled across the sand dunes, across the late evening tides, and to him sounded so loud that surely even the first stars stabbing holes in the sky would hear. 

‘I didn’t come here for that!’ She was shouting, too, hands thrown up in the air in frustration. ‘I don’t - be angry at him! Hate him! You’ve got a right to! I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.’ 

‘ _Thank_ you. I’m not all right.’ 

He turned to leave again, and she reached out to grab his sleeve again. ‘I don’t agree with what he said. I don’t think you’re a coward. I don’t think you’re ungrateful. I think you were raising valid points, points we need to hear. Because so many of us are caught up in this on a personal basis -’ 

‘And I’m not. It’s not _personal_ to me. It doesn’t _matter_ as much to me,’ he sneered. ‘I’m just the tag-along researcher, here to help you get through it all but not _really_ involved.’ 

Her nose wrinkled. ‘Involved -’ 

‘One of you. At all. Because Malfoy can’t stand me - and the feeling is thoroughly mutual - and Albus doesn’t get too close, I suspect _because_ of solidarity with Malfoy. And Lisa’s Lisa, and Selena right now is treating me like a leper for reasons known only to Selena, and then there’s _you_ …’ 

‘Me -’ 

‘Keeping me at arm’s length, or I’m keeping _you_ at arm’s length, and whichever way I know it’s _sensible_ , but I hate it.’ His shoulders squared. ‘I’m alone, and I’m kind of sick of this, and a part of me wishes like hell I hadn’t come on this trip.’ 

‘We’ve _needed_ you -’ 

‘And that’s the point! You need me, and this is _important_ , so I’m an arse if I walk away from this quest -’ 

‘Nobody would think less of you,’ said Rose hotly, ‘if you walked away from this.’ 

‘First,’ said Matt, ‘that’s a lie. You would. You say you wouldn’t, that we can all make our choices, but deep down you would judge me. And second, _I_ would judge _myself._ And third, it’s like the lot of you have realised this, so even though you need me, you know I won’t leave no matter how shoddily you treat me.’ 

Now her expression twisted with irritation. ‘That’s not fair, Matt. That’s _not_ fair. I’m not defending Scorpius, but since Kythos he’s been perfectly civil with you - before now, I mean. Albus has _never_ been anything but decent. Lisa is… I’m not going to speak for Lisa.’ 

‘She’s more honest than most of you, at least.’ 

‘I have no idea what’s going on with Selena,’ Rose admitted. ‘But I’ve…’ Her voice trailed off, and his throat tightened as he watched her thinking, saw her running through all their conversations, all their conflicts, since the journey began. 

‘You’ve not known if you should drive me away or not,’ he said. 

‘I thought we said we’d be friends. After Monte Carlo.’ 

‘Oh, yes. That night at the Rabbit’s Foot.’ Matt straightened and took a step closer, and his voice was throaty when he found it again. ‘We talked a lot about how we could get over the breakup. How we could be friends, still. Mature adults in a mature, platonic relationship. But there’s one thing I didn’t say.’ She had to tilt her chin up to meet his gaze, and he saw her swallow down nerves, saw her eyelashes flutter in uncertainty. Every inch of her was reading his body language correctly, and yet she wasn’t reacting. 

He just wasn’t sure why. 

‘I was lying,’ said Matt. Then his hand was cupping her cheek, his head was tilting down to hers, and he was kissing her. She froze in the embrace, not pulling back - but she didn’t kiss him back, either, and it only took one thudding heartbeat of feeling her lips unresponsive against his before reality rushed in at the edges. 

_She doesn_ _’t want you._

He pulled back, let her go, and she took a sharp step away, breathing ragged. ‘Matt -’ 

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and now he meant it, now humiliation was sweeping in at the edges. ‘I just - I shouldn’t have done that.’ 

‘No!’ Rose flapped a hand, but she seemed too stunned to be outright angry with him. ‘You shouldn’t!’ 

‘I was -’ _Why hold back?_ His shoulders squared. ‘I have wanted to do that for the last _year_ , there have just been a thousand reasons to not, and one of them has been your relationship with Scorpius. And after the way he behaved tonight, _fuck_ that guy, he’s not made it easy to respect your relationship.’ 

She touched her lips, but something sparked in her eyes. ‘What about respecting what _I_ want?’ 

Matt’s hand dropped, chest burning at the accusation. ‘You’re right,’ he said, voice gravelly. ‘I’m sorry. That’s not how I should have done that. It was stupid, and impulsive, and I did it for _me_ , not because I thought… not for you. It’s not how I should have done it.’ 

‘It’s all right,’ Rose sighed. ‘It’s - we can forget it.’ 

‘That’s not what I meant.’ He tilted his chin up half an inch. ‘I shouldn’t have started by kissing you. I shouldn’t have kissed you unless you wanted me to.’ Despite himself he took a step _back_ , partly to make it clear he was keeping his distance physically, and partly so he could take in all of her, bathed in sunset on this Caribbean island. It was about as perfect a view as he was going to get, and he suspected it was a sight that would be torn away from him _very_ soon. ‘I should have started by telling you the truth: I love you.’ 

She jolted at that, stepping away from him. ‘Don’t -’ 

‘We were stupid kids when we were together, and maybe we’re stupid kids now, but if it’s _possible_ for me to have loved you when I was fifteen, I did. And I didn’t stop.’ He flexed his hand at his side, tension running through him that he didn’t want to let flow into his voice. His gaze did not leave hers. ‘And I _knew_ you ran away from us _because_ we were stupid kids turning into something more serious, and… I don’t know, maybe we got together _too_ early, maybe we should have had some years on us to know ourselves and to know emotions and relationships better. Maybe it’s a terrible idea for your first real relationship to be with someone with whom you’re actually compatible.’ 

‘Matt, I can’t -’ 

‘You’re with Scorpius and that’s _fine_ and it’s - I mean, it doesn’t really _matter_ what I think, that’s the truth of it. I’m not saying, “leave him, be with me,” and I know that even if I did, you won’t. But I have been swallowing this for an age, and it has been _burning_ me these last few weeks. So I needed to say it. Just so I’d said it. Just so you _know_.’ Matt hesitated, and found he had to close his eyes to get the next part out. 

He knew what he was doing: throwing himself into the abyss, hurling himself into a game where he could only lose, but he knew he’d hate himself if he didn’t play. If he didn’t try. Better to try and fail and crash and burn, than to keep his silence any more. Silence had done him no favours. 

Time to try the truth. 

‘And just so you know,’ he said after another heartbeat, a heartbeat where she stood frozen, ‘if you change your mind, ever, I’ll be here. I will wait for you.’ 

Rose was biting her lip as he spoke, brown eyes on his throughout the monologue. Her arms wrapped around herself as she let hair dangle into her face, and when she replied her voice held as much apology as it did certainty. ‘You’re going to be waiting a long time.’ 

‘Maybe forever,’ Matt agreed. ‘I think you’re worth it.’ 

She gave a slow, shaking exhale. ‘You have been a God-send on this trip, Matt. You are brilliant and you are insightful, and I’m sorry if it’s cruel for you to hear that from me, but you need to hear it from somebody. You don’t deserve what Scorpius threw at you. I don’t know what’s going on with Selena, but you don’t deserve that, either. If we get this job done, if we find the Chalice, it will be because of _you_ above anyone else. But.’ Again she bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve been giving you confusing signals. I’m sorry I’ve shot you down and just said _that_. But we broke up a year ago. That is the fact of the matter, and it has not changed. I’m with Scorpius, and that has not changed.’ She turned away, pausing only when she was a few steps gone. ‘I’m going to send word to Mum on whatever they’ve decided.’ 

‘We’ll be going to Brillig,’ said Matt, voice flattening, and he still couldn’t take his eyes off her. 

‘Most likely.’ She looked away. ‘I really am sorry, Matt.’ 

‘Yeah. So am I.’ 

Then she was gone, making her way back to the pier where the ship was docked, and he knew that he wouldn’t have more than ten minutes before his absence would be needlessly delaying their trip back to Astoria’s house. They’d need all the rest they could get if they were going to Brillig tomorrow. But he’d use the time he had. Use it to clench his fists and punch the air in frustration, use it to get his breathing back under control, use it to try to smother the fires blazing in his gut with sickening, choking emotion. 

‘So,’ Matt growled, sarcastic even on his own, ‘that went about as well as it was going to.’

* * 

_Brillig Island. Tomorrow. Inferius. We get to meet Phlegethon_ _’s little brother._   
  
And all she could think about was Matt kissing her. 

She’d made it back to the ship, got their answer, had another conversation with her mother. Hermione gave them all of the information she could on Brillig Island, on Lockett’s team, on the operation and the plan. Important facts, facts they’d need to go over so they weren’t stumbling blind on this rescue mission, but it had washed over her. 

Scorpius hadn’t been on deck when she’d got back, so by the time she’d got the briefing off her mother and Matt was slinking back on board, she’d let Albus set them on a course back to Andros Island. Then she sought out her boyfriend. Rose knew him well. She knew he’d find somewhere dark and quiet to sit and contemplate how he’d screwed up _again_ , because even if he wasn’t sorry for what he said to Matt, he would be sorry for driving her off. And maybe that guilt would make him realise how horrendously unfair he had been, and she would likely get an apology pretty quickly. 

Except she couldn’t be angry at him any more, because she was too busy being guilty. 

_I will wait for you._   
  
‘Then you’ll be waiting a long time,’ she repeated under her breath. Except it wasn’t that simple. Except he’d kissed her, and she’d been too stunned to stop him. Except he’d declared his undying love, and she hadn’t known what to do. She was supposed to shout at him, wasn’t she? Rage at him for daring to kiss her, rage at him for expressing his feelings to her. It had been a _selfish_ act, entirely for _his_ benefit. But she hadn’t yelled at him. Why not? 

She’d been startled. That was all, but it felt like a failure. She was with Scorpius. She was sure she should have sent Matt off far, far more sharply. 

_Wait, how did what_ he’s _done become_ my _fault?_   
  
It made no sense. His actions were his own, and even if she’d reacted more vehemently, it wouldn’t have undone anything. Logically, she knew the only thing she was guilty of was trying to not hurt him. But it was hard to accept, and so she found herself lingering at the door to Scorpius’ cabin, trying to gather herself. This had to be about her relationship. Not about Matt. Nothing to do with Matt. 

_I will wait for you._   
  
Scorpius sat up the moment she stepped in. The seas were rushing by the ship, whisking them across the waters back to Andros Island, and they would be back within the hour. But there was less privacy back there, and so if she was going to resolve this, she’d have to do it now. The lights were out, and so she had to swish her wand to spark the candles to life. It was not a warm illumination for once, but harsh, crackling light and dark that cast jagged shadows across his face. 

‘I’m sorry,’ said Scorpius. 

_Why the hell are you - oh, yes. Yelling._   
  
Rose closed the door behind her and found she couldn’t be angry with him. ‘I know it wasn’t about Matt.’ 

‘It wasn’t.’ 

‘I know that Professor Lockett means a lot to you. I know you just want to help her. And I know you hate feeling helpless when people you care about are in danger. Not that anyone _does_ like that.’ _You_ _’re babbling. Stop it._   
  
Scorpius clambered to his feet. His shoulders were stiff, his head bowed. ‘She trusted me. She had faith in me. She’s one of the first people who treated me like an adult, not like an idiot kid. I owe her more than Phlegethon.’ 

‘And we’ll find her. We’ll save her. I promise you.’ 

His lips thinned, cheekbones casting shadows on his face in the flickering candlelight. ‘I’m still sorry I caused that scene. I know, I owe Matt an apology, I do -’ 

‘It’s okay. I mean, it’s okay for _me_.’ _How can I be angry at you when_ _… when…_ ‘I don’t think you two should be in any rush to talk.’ 

‘He’s that pissed off?’ 

_Yeah. Let_ _’s go with that._ She just nodded. 

Scorpius padded over, hand reaching for hers gingerly. ‘Something’s up. Talk to me.’ 

_And here I am again, stuck in a room with him and needing to lie._ Rose tilted her head up to look him in the eye. ‘I’m tired,’ she said. ‘And Matt was feeling pretty down, and that was kind of draining. But I’m not angry at you.’ _I_ _’m angry at myself_. ‘You need to work on not taking chunks out of the people around you when you’re upset about something else, but this is… she matters. I get that. I do. I was disappointed in you, but I understand, and I forgive you, and we’ll get through this.’ 

_And I let Matt kiss me._   
  
It had been strange. Like the memory of a kiss, like he was trying to dredge up their history, with all of its passion and discovery, and pour it into one embrace. It hadn’t worked. Not just because nobody could do that, reach through time and tie the feelings of the past to the feelings of the present. But for her it was like looking at a picture of when she’d felt those things. She didn’t feel it now. 

Not like she did with Scorpius. 

Almost as an experiment, she lifted her fingers to his cheeks, tilted his head down, and kissed him. It was a soft, lingering kiss, as light as she could make it - and it still sent a thrill through her, fizzing through her veins and filling her head and going a good, long way to dismissing the guilt inside her. Because Matt had kissed her and she’d just felt cold and a little sick, but she could kiss Scorpius and all he needed to do was lean into the embrace, soft and coaxing, and she felt like she was flying. 

He was delicate, careful, afraid he’d upset her, and she had to smother a laugh because _she_ was just as afraid she’d hurt _him_. And he would be hurt if she told the truth, and it would be for nothing. Just as Matt telling her he loved her was for Matt’s own sake and would otherwise only hurt, telling Scorpius would be only to assuage her guilt, and would otherwise only hurt. But she didn’t want to lie to him. 

So there was only one option. She had to tell a different truth, a truth more important than the shadows of her past, a truth of the brightness of the future that swept it _all_ away. 

Her hands linked behind his neck, and when she broke the kiss she still leaned in to him, his forehead resting against hers, the candlelight finally softening them both instead of casting erratic, dark shadows. ‘I love you,’ she whispered, and the words came as naturally as breathing before she kissed him again, deeply and greedily and with no intention of letting him go any time soon. 

Matt had said it, and the words had only left her cold - so cold that kissing Scorpius was like being warmed for the first time, a warmth she could wrap herself in like a blanket she never wanted to come out from under. It had taken that warmth for her to realise the truth, and now it had been uttered it was so blazingly bright she couldn’t understand how she hadn’t seen it before. 

This wasn’t about a diversion from her guilt. This was about what _really_ mattered.

* * 

‘I don’t like the look of those clouds,’ said Rose when she joined Selena at the prow of the ship. The waves broke before them and, in the distance, they could see Brillig Island. Mid-morning sun made the ocean around them shimmer, but on the horizon was not merely their destination. There was shadow. 

‘Island infested with Inferius. Of _course_ there’s going to be bad weather. Why not,’ Selena deadpanned. ‘Because this wasn’t a terrible enough notion already.’ 

‘We don’t have a choice.’ 

Selena tied her hair back, defying the wind’s efforts to make blonde strands whip about the sea. ‘We keep telling ourselves this. And yet, if that were true, half the wizards alive would be racing around the world to fight evil. We think we don’t have a choice when we sign up for horrendous danger, but we do.’ 

Rose sighed. ‘Are you any closer in figuring out how this all works? How it can be the most natural thing in the world to throw away your normal life to go risk your neck constantly?’ 

‘I leave that to the philosophers. All I know is that I have to be here. Not just this expedition, but _here_ , Brillig.’ Her eyes narrowed at the island ahead. ‘This all started with Phlegethon, with Eridanos. If this is the last of it, or even just a blow against it, then it’s fitting it’s us. Our work isn’t done.’ 

‘You mean his work.’ 

There was less of a wince from Selena than she’d expected. Just the slightest knitting of the perfect brow. ‘Did you know I’m actually pretty _smart_ when it comes to rituals? I didn’t. But in Tomar, down in that tomb where de Sablé was, I found myself recognising a lot of markings, identifying things. I’m like a stealth-learner.’ 

‘You’re not stupid.’ 

‘You once thought I was.’ 

‘And you once thought I was a closed-minded, uppity cow.’ 

Selena cocked her head. ‘What do you mean, once?’ 

But they laughed, and it went some way to softening the tension in Rose’s gut. She sighed. ‘Speaking of Tomar…’ 

‘Oh, here we go.’ 

‘Seriously, something’s up.’ Rose leaned on the railing to look at her better. ‘I know you’ve been doing combat training with Lisa, I know you’ve been shying away from Matt. I’m sorry I get caught up in my own things -’ 

‘If I _wanted_ to go to you, Weasley, I’d go to you. Frankly it’s convenient for me that you have your own concerns.’ 

‘That’s you hiding from me, hiding from this exact conversation. What did Matt _do_?’ When Selena didn’t answer, when she studied the ocean’s waves intently, Rose put a hand on her forearm. ‘Or was it simply that we had to race into an aftermath and we didn’t know if he was alive or dead?’ 

She pulled back, stung. ‘Yeah. That was shit. Well-noticed.’ 

‘I’m sorry - but that’s no reason to pull away from him. Risking our necks is -’ 

‘Don’t you lecture me on the risks of this lifestyle. I _made_ this happen. I’m ready to face the consequences. I’m ready to put my neck on the chopping block if that’s what it takes.’ 

‘But are you ready to lose someone _else_?’ 

Their gazes met for a long moment, Selena’s blue eyes uncompromising on hers. ‘Is this what he was lamenting at you about last night when he had his little storm off? _Me_?’ 

She sounded disbelieving, and Rose couldn’t stop herself from hesitating. ‘Not exactly. Not just you. He was feeling pretty isolated in general, so I don’t think you pulling away from him has helped, and…’ 

Selena’s eyes narrowed. ‘And what?’ 

‘And all that sort of thing.’ 

‘No.’ She took a step closer, head cocking. ‘Don’t you hide things from me, Rose Weasley. You might be the smart cookie here, but when it comes to bluffing, _I_ _’m_ the genius, remember?’ 

Guilt crawled up Rose’s throat, bitter in her mouth and enough to make her choke and pull away. ‘Oh, hell.’ 

‘What?’ Selena sounded surprised, then sympathetic. ‘…what _did_ he do?’ 

‘You can’t tell anyone. Especially not Scorpius.’ Rose clutched her sleeve. 

‘What did _you_ do, Rose?’ 

‘I didn’t do anything!’ She cast a worried look down from the quarterdeck, but only Lisa and Albus were in sight, running through their stretching and exercise routines with a discipline which put the rest of them to shame. They were out of earshot. ‘He… he… he kissed me, and then he said he loved me -’ 

‘Oh, _no_ … what did you do?’ 

‘I told him he shouldn’t have! That it wasn’t going to happen!’ Her voice was going high-pitched in a way she hated. ‘That I was with Scorpius and that was that…’ 

‘And you haven’t told Scorpius?’ 

‘Should I?’ 

‘No!’ Selena waved her hands. ‘Absolutely, definitely not. But - you were clear with Matt? You were absolutely clear with him?’ 

‘Yes! This was - no mixed signals here! He just did it! And I told him no!’ 

‘Good!’ 

Both of them slumped against the railing, and Rose fought through her haze of guilty uncertainty to study the other woman’s face. As ever, Selena had adopted her mask of cool, calm superiority, and she was never any good at seeing through those. But she knew when the masks were _up_ , so she knew there was something she was trying to hide. ‘…you all right?’ 

‘Of course.’ 

_Which means_ _‘no’._ Rose sighed. ‘He really does care about you. He was upset about you perhaps most of all - I mean, aside from Scorpius being a dick to him.’ 

‘And aside from declaring his undying love for you. When I told him to leave it, to back off, to let you _be_ , but of course he doesn’t listen to _me_ …’ 

‘Guys!’ 

That was Albus, and Rose didn’t know if she should be relieved or not by the interruption. His voice was amplified to roll across the entire ship, a summons of them all to the quarterdeck. He and Lisa stepped up and the girls fell silent, waiting to eventually be joined by Matt and Scorpius. The former slunk next to Lisa, while the latter crossed to the railing to stand next to Rose, a gesture she couldn’t identify as possessive or affectionate. 

_Then again, he doesn_ _’t know he needs to be territorial._   
  
‘We’re coming up on Brillig,’ said Albus once they were all there, and Rose looked over his shoulder to the looming shape of the island beyond. The dark clouds hung lower now, black and full with the promise of a cold wind and possible rain. ‘So it’s best we make sure we’re all on the same page with what we’re there for, and what we’re up against.’ 

‘Rescue Lockett. Get out,’ said Scorpius, and Rose put a hand on his arm. 

‘We need to find survivors and get them back to the ship,’ Albus said. ‘This might be the expedition, this might be locals. If it’s too many for us to handle, we have to help secure them somewhere the task force can arrange a quick extraction and send word.’ 

‘What about infection?’ said Selena. 

Albus looked to Rose. ‘You read the full report from your mother.’ 

She sighed, nodded, and stepped forward. ‘Eridanos is different to Phlegethon. It’s been typically started with an infecting ritual similar to the one at Hogwarts, but that’s just a one-shot deal. The Council imbue a ritual with the disease and unleash it. From there, it often takes less than a week before it will weaken, incapacitate, kill, and then raise the afflicted as Inferius. They are the source of the contagion to anyone on-site after the initial infecting. Eridanos is less infectious than Phlegethon - you don’t catch it just by sharing the same air as someone afflicted or an Inferius raised by it. It takes the virus getting into the bloodstream - cuts, injuries, bites, ingestion, that kind of thing.’ 

‘Just as well we’re still immune,’ Scorpius said. 

‘We are. And from the studies of Professor Lockett’s immunity, even if the virus gets in our bloodstream, within an hour it will have died off because it won’t be able to get to work wrecking our bodies. So we can go onto Brillig, and so long as we isolate ourselves for a bit once we leave, we won’t spread it.’ 

‘I don’t get it,’ said Selena. ‘Phlegethon was infectious as _hell_. Why have they remade the virus into something _less_ virulent?’ 

‘Phlegethon was very slow-acting. It took months for it to kill and convert anyone,,’ Rose explained. ‘But Eridanos isn’t just faster, it’s also more effective. Because the necromancy gets to work on their bodies while they’re alive, the Inferi are often stronger, faster, and smarter than your average raised corpse. Unlike Phlegethon, it’s possible to send in teams to fight Eridanos, but they will be going into a _war-zone_ of people dying and turning into rampaging Inferi. For Phlegethon, the virus was the danger. For Eridanos, if you’re not caught in the initial wave, the Inferi are the danger.’ 

‘So this means we’re not going to get infected, but we _are_ in danger of being killed by Inferi?’ Lisa raised an eyebrow. 

‘You’re not,’ said Albus. ‘You and Matt are staying on the ship, getting us secure bunks to be quarantined in when we get back, and keeping the ship ready for a quick getaway.’ 

She scowled. ‘Like _hell_.’ 

Matt straightened. ‘I second that.’ 

‘You two aren’t immune.’ Albus’ jaw was tight. ‘You go onto that island and you get the slightest scratch from an Inferius, or even from a damned _nail_ that the virus hasn’t yet died off on, and you’re infected. And if we can’t find Professor Lockett, or we can’t find the Resurrection Stone, we don’t have a _cure_.’ 

‘There’s no cure for getting your jugular ripped out by an Inferius, either,’ Lisa pointed out. ‘So prevention’s the best solution, and you’re benching your best wand-hand.’ 

‘And I’m not sitting around waiting for you guys to _maybe_ come back,’ said Matt. 

Albus straightened. ‘We cannot protect you -’ 

‘I don’t _need_ protecting,’ Lisa snapped. ‘And I’d rather risk my neck than lurk here, useless.’ 

He stepped forward, voice firm, expression set. ‘This isn’t up for debate. You two are staying here. The four of us are going in.’ 

Matt scowled. ‘We didn’t formally put you in charge. I don’t see how you think you can give us orders.’ 

‘I’m giving you orders because you _know_ I’m right,’ said Albus, voice flat. ‘You know this is the sensible thing to do, you know this is the right thing to do. The only thing to do. I know you don’t like it. I’d hate it if I were in your shoes. But it’s irresponsible to take two people who aren’t immune onto that island, especially when there are options. Right now we _do_ have a choice, and this is the one I’m making. It’s the one you’re making, too. You just don’t like it, so you want to take it out on me.’ 

He stepped back and they fell silent, both of them scowling up a storm to rival the gathering clouds. Albus looked to the island, closer and darker now. It was not a large island, but then, it was not a large magical settlement that had once lived upon it. From here they could see a pier and a small dock, a smattering of buildings built in the same 18th century-style Rose recognised from their travels in the Caribbean so far. But there was no movement, and a path wound up from the dock into wooded hillside, towards where she could see the silhouette of the main village at the top of a rise. 

That was less clear, less distinct. Anything could be there, waiting. Inferi. Council wizards. Was there really a hope that Nat Lockett was alive if she’d gone missing out here? Were they here to rescue her, or just confirm her dead? Rose’s shoulders tensed, and she reached to take the hand of Scorpius, still stood next to her. His hold was tight, and she didn’t need to look at him to tell he shared her apprehension, her uncertainty. 

Probably tenfold. She respected and liked Nathalie Lockett, but she didn’t share his sense of obligation, or not to the same personal degree. It was there, though. And that was why they were doing this - why Albus was throwing his weight around, why Matt and even Lisa were settling into unhappy silence, why Selena had abandoned all wry commentary. They were all focused on the job ahead. Brillig Island. Nathalie Lockett. Eridanos. 

The Chalice was important, no doubt about it. But this was personal.


	42. Landfall

  
**Landfall**

Brillig Island was dead. Devoid of the living, devoid of light, devoid of colour. Streets were empty of all but refuse. The paint of the old buildings was already beginning to crumble, as if brick and mortar felt the ravages of Eridanos as much as flesh could. It was a town centuries old, claimed by some of the first European wizards to reach this part of the seas. They had built it, made it their home, hidden it from the Muggle world - but there was precious little magical about it now. 

The hike up from the pier to the town had been nerve-wracking. The woodland was not thick; they could see the hillside sprawl up across the rises and falls of Brillig. Scorpius thought this was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, nothing could sneak up on them with ease. On the other, he wasn’t sure he wanted to see things coming. But there had been no movement out there, not even birdsong. Light waned as the clouds gathered overhead, and the stillness in the air made his ears ache. 

‘There should be bodies,’ said Rose as they walked down the main street. Albus led the way, she and Selena had taken the flanks, and Scorpius watched their backs as much as he could. They’d never trained in formations or anything like this. It was just sense and instinct as their footsteps provided the only hint of life. 

‘Don’t say that,’ Selena muttered. ‘You know why there aren’t.’ 

‘Yes, but where have they walked _to_?’ 

‘Don’t say _that_ , either.’ 

Scorpius forced his breathing to slow as the road widened and they approached the town’s square. Shadows from the rippling clouds above dragged fingertips across the painted walls, and he couldn’t help but glance through every window they passed. He didn’t know if he was relieved or not to see nothing. ‘She - they - could be anywhere.’ 

‘She could be _dead_.’ Selena pointed out. ‘We can’t just scour this entire island blindly.’ 

‘Rose?’ Albus looked over his shoulder. ‘Bright ideas?’ 

She took a moment to tighten her ponytail, thinking. ‘I could try a search for magical signatures if survivors have set up any protections. Or I could… hm. This place is going to be steeped in necromancy. But it’s _possible_ I could try to search for where the Resurrection Stone is.’ 

‘Couldn’t we have done that from the ship?’ 

Rose shrugged at Selena. ‘The closer we are, the easier it is. I’ll make some ritual markings, and that wouldn’t have been as effective on the ship, the -’ 

‘- markings tap into the earth and the magic flows from there, I know,’ Selena sighed. 

They stepped into the middle of the wide, cobbled town square. Palm trees bowed shadows at the edges, but the centre would have been bathed in sunlight had the black clouds not been gathered overhead. From somewhere in the distance, they heard a rumble. 

‘I really hope that’s thunder,’ said Albus. ‘Do the ritual. We’ll keep watch.’ 

Rose pulled chalk from her bag and Scorpius turned away, studying the road they’d walked down - as bare and empty as ever. But with the rolling thunder, the wind was picking up. The gathering storm’s fingertips began to dredge up movement, refuse tumbling across the street, trees waving in the breeze. He flinched at a newspaper scraping across the cobbles, a gust of wind catching it and making it dance upwards - 

‘What the _fuck_ is that.’ His eyes landed on the slope outside town - and caught a flash of movement. ‘Something’s out there.’ 

Albus was by his side in an instant. ‘What’s - holy shit.’ 

The trees provided some cover, and the thing out there was beyond the town, up on the hillside some distance away. These were the only reasons it hadn’t been spotted sooner, because it was certainly not hiding. Human-shaped and hunkered down, it was so visible because every inch of it was bone-white, stark and bright against the shadows of the woods. Though as the head swivelled in their direction, Scorpius could see the shadows of a face, so dark as to be skull-like, too distant to be clear. 

‘That’s not an Inferius like - I mean - it’s not what Tim looked like.’ His breath caught as the creature turned to lope - it was the only word that applied - down the hill and took cover behind a rocky outcropping. ‘Al. Al, it’s looking at us, Al.’ 

‘I know.’ When Albus’ voice rose, it was the first time Scorpius could remember hearing him afraid. ‘Rose, how’s that ritual coming?’ 

‘Getting there. I’m not looking at whatever you can see. It’s just going to upset me, isn’t it?’ 

‘Yep.’ 

‘I just have to - that’s odd.’ Rose hesitated, and Scorpius glanced over his shoulder. She was frowning at the chalk circle she’d scrawled on the square. ‘I’m not picking up any signs of magical protections, but this is a magic-imbued island. Not just by Eridanos; wizards have lived here for centuries, perhaps millennia depending upon - anyway, it’s a magic-saturated environment. _Except_ something that way.’ She pointed, much to Scorpius’ relief, to the west, rather than the south where the creature lurked. 

Albus at the steeper hillside that way. ‘What’s that way?’ 

‘A patch of nothing. Literally - there is a patch of something that way which is utterly _devoid_ of magic. A null-zone, for lack of a better word. I don’t know what could cause that.’ 

‘Should we check it out?’ said Selena. 

‘It’s a lead.’ Scorpius shrugged. ‘And I don’t want to wait here while that thing -’ When he looked to the south, the hillside was empty. ‘Shit. Shit. Where’s it gone?’ 

‘I don’t know.’ Albus hefted his wand. ‘But let’s not stick around until we can ask it. It’s probably an Inferius; these Inferi are different to the ones afflicted by Phlegethon or more mundane necromancy, and we have a lead going _away_ from it, so I say we take it.’ 

Thunder rumbled overhead, and Scorpius lifted his gaze. ‘I sure hope that wasn’t a sign.’ 

They took the turn down the main street that would lead to the western exit from town. This way was less of the once-bright walls, and more of the old masonry from the first European settlement. It was jarring to see buildings that would have looked at home in Hogsmeade with Caribbean flowers crawling along the trellises and palm trees bowing before them, but soon enough the road became a dirt track, and the buildings crumbled more and more. 

‘You know,’ said Selena, voice taut as they walked, ‘when de Sablé said we’d be going to the Caribbean, _I_ was expecting an awful lot more of sun. Sea. Sand. Beaches. Fruity drinks with little umbrellas in them.’ 

‘Since _when_ has this trip been a holiday, Rourke?’ said Rose. 

‘Kythos. Then everyone died. I was hoping we could recapture the part that came before horrendous death.’ 

‘Because we have been _flush_ with good fortune and relaxation,’ Scorpius said. There was another roll of thunder, and a fat raindrop landed on his nose. Nerves made him flinch, and he swore. ‘Here it comes.’ 

The rain came quick and it came hard. Soon enough they were drenched to the bone, summer clothes soaked through, hair plastered down, the path leading up the hillsides of Brillig muddy and slick underfoot. Scorpius lifted a hand to wipe his eyes dry, only to find his hand too wet, his eyebrows too soaked, and instead he was just smearing rainwater across his face. ‘So this is becoming an O-grade clusterfuck.’ 

Clouds were black as pitch overhead, the rain lashing down. From far to the north there was a flash of light, long seconds passing before the next roll of thunder. But onward they went, along a path that first meandered across overgrown fields before it began its ascent into the sparsely-wooded hillside of Brillig. At least the trees were less dense, he thought, than they had been wherever that _thing_ was. 

‘You studied the maps,’ Albus called from the front. His breathing was coming hard, the path getting difficult underfoot. ‘What’s over this way, Rose?’ 

‘Several things!’ she shouted. ‘Farms. There’s an old church. An old 18th century watchtower… to get a better pinpoint we’d need to be closer, _or_ I’d have to stop and do the ritual again!’ 

Selena swore as her foot slipped. ‘No way we’re getting _that_ done in these conditions!’ 

Scorpius grabbed her elbow to steady her, getting a thin-lipped smile of gratitude in response. He nodded and helped her on her way, then chanced a glance over his shoulder, back towards Brillig’s town - and stopped. ‘It’s followed us.’ 

The Inferius was hunkered behind rubble of a crumbled old building, but it seemed more like it was protecting itself than hiding. Its bone-white hide made an even more stark contrast to its surroundings in the dark, rain-lashed air. Somehow, that it was so brazenly visible was more eerie - this was something that didn’t _need_ to lunge out at them from the shadows. It could follow them, and wait, and they would _know_ it was there but could do little. 

It was closer now, and Scorpius squinted down the hillside to get a better look. The shadowy face was more distinct, and his stomach roiled as he saw how skull-like and sunken it was, dead flesh pulled tight over bones, its eyes black sockets which were still somehow staring at him. ‘I don’t like this,’ he said. ‘This is almost animalistic. It’s like it’s got a plan. I thought Inferi didn’t _have_ minds?’ 

‘They don’t. They do the bidding of the dark wizard who raised them,’ said Rose. ‘Except that Eridanos is _different._ We don’t have all the answers, but it’s theorised that because their conversion starts while they’re still alive, they maintain a certain… mental autonomy. Of the base, bestial cunning variety.’ 

‘Oh, _good_.’ Albus turned. ‘I’m not having this thing following us across the island. Let’s go get it. Remember to use fire spells as much as possible; anything which attacks its physiology isn’t going to do anything. No slashing spells, no stuns. Pure brute force is the key.’ 

‘I’m good at that,’ said Selena. ‘Brute force and unspeakable violence are my _speciality._ ’ 

‘Mine is quips,’ Scorpius said. ‘I’m not sure they’ll be much use against an Inferius.’ But his heart was thudding in his chest, each thump louder than the thunder, and he had to swallow rising bile. Of them all, he was the only one to have a personal run-in with an Inferius, only that hadn’t been a faceless, unknown enemy. It had been Tim, and as he looked down at the ghoulish shape down the hill, he couldn’t help but wonder: whose loved one had _they_ been? 

It didn’t make the prospect of setting fire to them much easier. 

But they didn’t get more than a handful of paces down the hill before the creature moved. It looked right at them, only to lope back towards the town, hunkering behind a fallen log. Albus swore. ‘Rose, do you think you could hit it from here?’ 

She lifted her wand, squinting across the distance, but shook her head. ‘Not with the rain and wind. It’s too far.’ 

‘Okay.’ Albus stopped. ‘New plan.’ He reached to his pack and pulled out the length of shimmering cloth that was the Invisibility Cloak. ‘Keep an eye on it and get ready to move. Once I’m close enough, I’ll try to knock it off its feet so you’ve got time to get over and back me while I engage.’ 

Scorpius looked pained. ‘There is nothing about this idea I like.’ 

‘I didn’t like it when you went to tackle Matt out of the way of a charging troll, mate, but time’s a-wasting.’ Albus didn’t give Scorpius a chance to argue further, just swept the cloak over his shoulders - and was gone. 

‘I’m starting to hate it when he does that,’ said Scorpius, and turned down the hill to regard their stalker. The bone-white figure hunkered down more upon Albus’ disappearance, body language more stiff, spooked. But within a few seconds, it turned and loped back towards the town, disappearing from sight behind the buildings. 

Rose scowled. ‘Al!’ 

He was back beside them in heartbeats - heartbeats that lunged into throats when the air shifted to reveal him from nothing. ‘Canny bastard,’ Albus swore. ‘I don’t think it could see me; it didn’t so much as look at where I was. But the moment I disappeared it must have figured something was up.’ 

‘And it can probably keep an eye on us from somewhere more hidden,’ said Selena, looking at the town. ‘Or somewhere closer to its friends.’ 

‘Friends.’ Scorpius sighed. ‘Great.’ 

‘Of course it’s got friends,’ said Albus, and turned to continue their tromping up the hill in the direction of Rose’s ritual findings. ‘This island once had a whole population of wizards. If even some of them have been turned into Inferi, then we’re not going to be able to carve our way through the lot of them in a fight.’ 

‘And Eridanos has a high conversion rate, from what information Mum’s task force can gather. There’s no reason to think most of the witches and wizards who lived here aren’t loping around somewhere.’ 

‘Including children?’ Selena wrinkled her nose. 

Rose paused. ‘We’ve had evidence that the Stygian plagues don’t care about age.’ 

The rain was still coming, and they had to raise their voices to be heard over the rattling in the trees, the rushing of water as rivulets began to course down the hillside. Woodland was getting thicker now, and lightning flashed in the air with bursts of white that had Scorpius flinching at the shadows in case there were more Inferi. But it was nothing; Brillig Island remained silent and still, save the dishevelment of the oncoming storm, and as he watched their backs, there was no sign they were still being followed. 

Rose’s voice came a few minutes later, hollering over the rain. ‘There’s the tower!’ 

Relief flooded through him, and Scorpius turned to look up the hill. Now he could see the rising shape of grey stone blending with grey sky, the storm whipping around the centuries-old watchtower atop the rise. They had a way to go, yet, and he could see the squat shape of other nearby buildings, but the end was in sight. ‘It’s about damn -’ When he next put his foot down, it slipped. Not a little, not from slick surface mud, and solid earth lurched. He scrabbled, but then the entire left side of their path was giving way, soaked with water. ‘Son of a -!’ 

He flailed and reached for Selena, who was ahead and to the right of him, on more steady ground. She grabbed his wrist and was about to pull him up. Then Rose, whose footing had also disintegrated, came tumbling down to slam into him. He lost his hold on Selena, and they both fell. 

Mud and sky and the flashes of Rose’s red hair filled his vision as he fell, slipped, slid. His hip hit a rock and he yelped with pain. They both scrabbled for purchase but all was muddy and slick, and after long seconds they slid to a halt a way down the hill, mud-soaked and drenched and dazed, flat on their backs. For a long moment Scorpius just lay there, groaning, and despite the storm’s role in all this he was grateful for the cleansing rain. 

Rose uttered low oaths next to him, and sounded battered and surprised more than pained. At the shouting from up the hill, Scorpius lifted his head and waved towards Albus and Selena, who scrambled to join them. ‘We’re all right!’ he groaned. ‘It was just -’ 

Then there was a _squelch_ ,and something white lunged from the trees to land in the mud next to Rose with a hiss that rolled like dead thunder. 

He didn’t know if it was the same Inferius. He hadn’t had a good enough look. But it was human-sized, its flesh ghastly white and drawn tight enough that its bones looked like they were protruding. It hunched over Rose, crouched like a vulture ready to prey upon a carcass, arms reaching towards her with hands that ended in vicious, claw-like fingertips. 

And Scorpius realised he’d dropped his wand in the fall. Rose was still getting her bearings, more stunned by the impact than him, and hadn’t got much further than a shocked widening of the eyes before the Inferius looked down at her. The second hiss came through long teeth sharpened like fangs, its entire face skull-like with ivory, sunken skin. The eyes, deep-set in dark sockets, held not the slightest glint of humanity or understanding. 

Just hunger. 

There was no time for anything clever, cunning, or witty as the Inferius loomed over her, poised to strike. So he tackled it. 

When his shoulder hit the creature, it was like slamming into concrete. There was not an ounce of flesh or muscle on it, and yet it was solid, sturdy. But it fell at the impact and then they both went down, tumbling along the rain-slicked hillside in the mud under the storm. He grabbed its shoulder, tried to slam it into the ground as they went, but it was stronger than him, impossibly strong, and couldn’t be rattled by something as simple as being pushed around. 

When they stopped, he was on his back, a clawed hand pinning him against the dirt, and he had a skull-like face chomping at his. His elbow thudded into the Inferius’ throat, and though it didn’t flinch at the blow, he could keep its maw away from him while his other hand pawed wildly through the mud. 

_No fire. No backup. A spell might hit us both. They_ _’d have to get closer and if Rose - there might be others -_   
  
The Inferius grabbed his arm at its throat and twisted. He felt a sickening crunch in his shoulder as something gave way, and then there was no planning, just screaming. 

He’d been hurt before. Quidditch injuries, the golem in Badenheim, the landing at the Rabbit’s Foot. There had been nothing to be done in those moments except suffer, flail, let others save him, let others pick up the slack. But this was an agony that he couldn’t afford, because at _best_ he was alone and nobody was going to save him. And he had no idea what danger Rose was in. Fear, for once, brought clarity instead of panic. 

He didn’t remember his Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons. He didn’t remember briefings from Albus or his own reading on Inferi. He didn’t even remember fighting Tim. There was nothing considered about his right hand snatching at a rock the size of his fist - and driving it into the Inferius’ skull. 

The creature reeled, falling off him. Covered in mud, screaming in what was now a mixture of agony and desperate rage, Scorpius rose to slam the rock against it again. Something gave way under the impact and, slick with rain and mud, he struck again, and again. The Inferius fell onto its back and he didn’t stop. _Thud_. Again. Again. Over and over until it wasn’t moving any more, until there was no struggle from under him, just the storm thundering overhead, the throbbing pain in his shoulder. 

_So they do bleed_ , came the detached, light-headed thought as he gazed down at the remains of the Inferius and his handiwork. _Just it_ _’s black and disgusting._   
  
‘Scorpius!’ That was Albus, skidding to a stop next to him, less muddied but equally drenched. ‘You’re all right, mate.’ But he reached for his bad shoulder and Scorpius screamed again, and this time almost collapsed as black spots exploded in front of his vision. Albus swore. ‘Rose!’ 

Awareness of the outside world grew as he looked around. A trio of other white shapes lay on the ground behind him, though they smoldered and were still. Selena helped Rose to her feet, but Rose clutched her wand and golden embers glowed at the tip. She had not been helpless the whole time. And she was by his side in a heartbeat, expression twisting. ‘You need to _stop_ doing this…’ 

‘Sure!’ He spoke through gritted teeth. ‘So long as you stop scaring the hell out of _me,_ too - _son of a bitch_!’ It was probably for the best she hadn’t warned him before casting the charm to fix his arm. There was another crunch and though it was followed by relief, the movement itself was enough to make him scream yet _more_. 

‘I’d say to keep the noise down,’ came Selena’s voice, dry enough to kill the storm. ‘But there’s been enough screaming and also _fire_.’ 

Scorpius clutched his arm. It was sore and a little weak, but no longer throbbing with mindless agony. ‘What happened?’ 

‘You fell,’ said Albus, and extended his lost wand to him. ‘Then one jumped out on you. You took it down, but there were more.’ 

‘So we threw Rose her wand and she set them the fuck on fire while Albus and I kept the mud so slick they couldn’t do anything but lie there and burn,’ summarised Selena, master tactician. 

‘Morbid,’ Scorpius muttered. 

‘And yet more sophisticated than, “hit it in the head with a rock until it’s dead-dead.”’ 

‘Worked, didn’t it?’ 

Selena gave his arm a critical look. ‘For a given value.’ 

Albus helped Scorpius to his feet. ‘So these are the Inferi produced by Eridanos. Still vulnerable to fire, still require brain activity to operate. But that was an ambush. They were lying in wait, ready to strike when we were defenceless. That’s a tactical level of thinking your average Inferius isn’t capable of. These ones are _smart_.’ 

‘And there’ll be more of them,’ Scorpius said. ‘They might even be out there right now.’ 

‘They’d have the numbers to take us if they just swarmed. And self-preservation isn’t something they’re known for. So we move quickly before they gather enough of them that they try to take us outright.’ 

They nodded, and carried on up the hill. The going was slower, now, as they were more mindful of their footing, more mindful of any movement in the trees, but other than the pattering of the rain and the rumbling of thunder, there was no sound, no motion. 

Rose slunk in beside Scorpius at the back. She looked about as much of a state as him, covered in mud, face pale underneath the dirt. ‘Are you okay?’ She kept her voice low. 

‘My shoulder hurts like hell. But I can _move_ it, and I don’t need to just lie there screaming, so it’s an improvement. Thanks.’ His lips twisted. 

She touched his arm gently. ‘Ideally you’d want a day or two of rest after that. I don’t think we’ve got much chance of that.’ 

‘I’ll endure.’ 

The rest of the trip passed in silence. They breathed more easily when they emerged from the trees, though here the wind was sharper, whipping rain into their faces, the chill cutting to the bone. The tower stood ahead, a gloomy silhouette of a guardian waiting for them. Around it lay other squat buildings - remains of farmsteads, the ruins of the church Rose had mentioned, though that at least looked reasonably intact. And, beyond, the tall cliff and the long fall to the storm-swept ocean beyond. 

There was, at least, no movement. Rose lifted her wand and murmured under her breath, then frowned at the church. ‘There. That’s where that nullified area is. We should be careful. I don’t know why it’s there, but nothing’s going to work inside. No wands. Possibly not the cloak.’ 

Selena pursed her lips. ‘Will the Inferius be able to walk around in that?’ 

‘I don’t know. I doubt it.’ 

‘It’d make a great prison for any witch…’ Albus set off towards the church, gait slow and cautious, and as one they crossed the expanse. 

So they were a good way out in the open before there was a creak from the tower doors, and though they all spun as one in that direction, they froze at the sight. One Inferius, two - then more, more loping out from the darkness through the double doors and into the open, teeth bared, giving rattling, hissing growls. Scorpius counted maybe twenty in all, and all with their black eyes locked on them with hateful hunger. 

‘That’s… a lot of them,’ Selena breathed. ‘So, running?’ 

‘Into the woods where there’s probably more waiting?’ Albus’ lips thinned. ‘No way. We’re out in the open, we’ve got wands and fire, it’s our best chance…’ 

‘But not a good one.’ That was Rose, and there was an edge to her voice Scorpius found both familiar and yet _not_. The determination he knew, mingled with fear and apprehension, only he usually heard it in himself before he did something stupid. So he wasn’t entirely surprised when she yanked the Invisibility Cloak from Albus’ unsuspecting grasp. ‘I’ve got a better idea.’ 

Scorpius’ eyes widened. ‘Oh, don’t you dare -’ 

Her gaze met his, eyes dark and blazing with defiance. ‘You inspire me. But you’ve got a busted arm.’ Before he could argue, she’d grabbed him by the front of his drenched t-shirt to pull him down for an urgent kiss - and before he could do anything about _that_ , either, she’d let him go only to turn and bolt. Not directly at the swarm of Inferi, but closer and on a course towards one of the more intact barns of the farmstead still standing. 

‘What the fuck is she doing.’ Selena’s voice had gone scared and flat. 

But the Inferi were looking in her direction as she ran, or some of them were - then sparks of fire swept from her wand in her wake, crackling over the rainy ground towards them. It wasn’t enough to down them, or kill them, but it was enough to crack into their rotten forms, enough to get the focus of the whole swarm. ‘Hey! Forget them!’ came her voice across the distance. ‘Lots of lovely lunch over here!’ And after her they loped, all vicious hisses and low moans. 

‘ _Rose_!’ That was Albus, whirling towards her. But she’d put her head down to sprint, disappearing into the array of buildings. 

Scorpius’ jaw dropped. _So that_ _’s what this feels like_. And despite the roiling mass of fear in his gut, he reached out to grab Albus’ sleeve when he jerked after his cousin. ‘No, she’s - let her, Al, she’s drawing them off and she’s got the cloak! She’s made the play, we have to _trust_ her!’ His heart thudded in his throat, doubting his own words, doubting his own trust, and his mind raged and ranted at himself to be steady. 

‘She’s going to get herself _killed_!’ 

But the Inferi were loping after Rose as one solid pack, ignoring the three of them, and Scorpius swallowed back bile as he tightened his grip on Albus. ‘We have to trust her,’ he said again. 

‘One of these days,’ growled Albus, ‘people are going to trust _my_ plans and stop running the _hell_ off halfway through a mission -’ 

He wasn’t struggling any more, though, and Scorpius let him go, starting across the emptying field for the church. ‘I’d rather have her here if we’re going to check out this null patch, but if it’s in there we’ve got to investigate. It might be something a wizard cooked up to keep themselves safe for the period, it might be something else - we’re not just running in blindly.’ 

‘How many Inferi do you think we _can_ take by ourselves?’ asked Selena in a hushed voice, tromping along the slick path in his wake. 

‘Half a dozen? If we really focus our fire, maybe ten?’ said Albus. ‘So I suppose a straight fight wasn’t going to work; maybe she can lure them off and lose them…’ 

Scorpius suspected that Rose’s schemes would be more ambitious than that, but she and her rabble had disappeared into the ruined farmsteads, and with the storm raging overhead he had no hope of hearing any of the shouting. So all he could do was make sure they _used_ the time she’d given them. And he’d freak out later. _Be safe. Come back to me. We promise that, don_ _’t we. Every time._

The old church was still a solid building, the walls and rooftop intact. Windows had been boarded up, and to his relief that looked like it had happened a while ago. But the masonry was crumbling, the signs in disrepair, the grounds in front of it overgrown. He could hear nothing from beyond the door, but then with the rain and thunder he couldn’t hear much going on more than ten feet away anyway. ‘Unless anyone else knows rituals,’ Scorpius said, ‘we should find a window or gap somewhere to take a look in…’ 

Albus nodded, but Selena was looking back the way they’d come, and colour drained from her face. ‘Um.’ 

‘Um?’ Scorpius looked around to see the _second_ pack of Inferi, this one loping over the rise, out from the woodlands. They’d suspected there were more in the trees than had attacked them before, and it looked like they were right. Except now about ten of them were here. 

Half as many chased Rose. But now they were only three. 

They’d expected the Inferi to be roaming individuals, mindless monstrosities like they’d studied. But these were smarter, faster, operating with a pack mentality. They had waited and watched their approach, and then they’d let them come here to be pincered. If Rose hadn’t led off the pack who’d been hidingin the tower, they would have been surrounded by now, entrenched in a fight they could only _maybe_ win only to have this second group come up behind them. 

Albus slammed his back against the church and lifted his wand with both hands. He was chanting, and Scorpius could see fire gathering around the tip of the wand. 

‘Selena!’ Scorpius shouted, suddenly understanding. ‘Slow them down! Mud, wind, anything!’ A gust of water erupted from the tip of his wand and rushed into the slick earth, coursing along like a muddy river across the distance towards the Inferi. It hit their ankles, their knees, and some stumbled and fell. Others staggered, but kept coming, and the ones who were down quickly gathered themselves, or scrambled forwards on knees and clawed hands. 

That was fine. He just had to slow them. And then came Selena’s strike, the wind and rain of the storm gathered up into a swirling pocket for long seconds before she unleashed the stored energy _at_ them, a trick Scorpius knew she’d learnt from Methuselah, the same gambit he’d used in their fight against Downing to disorientate the Council Wizard and save Albus. _The time Rose almost died_ _…_

Scorpius gritted his teeth. They could do this. The Inferi were still scrabbling across the distance towards them, too close for comfort, but energy erupted from the tip of Albus’ wand and he stepped forwards, lifting it in readiness to discharge what he prayed was a wave of fire. Rose was the one who knew the complicated, technical spells and used them to great effect, but what they needed here and now was raw power, and Albus was always the one to deliver that. 

Then a rock came soaring from the ranks of the Inferi and cracked Albus on the side of the head. 

_They_ _’re not supposed to be that smart_ , Scorpius thought. Then he thought, _shit_ , when Albus staggered with a yelp at the impact - and his spell went off. It was a burst of fire enough to bake the mud on his face even from this distance, ferocious and powerful because while a blow to a wizard might disrupt their casting it wouldn’t stop it altogether, and Albus had gathered _significant_ energy. 

But it did throw off his aim, and Selena let out a burst of terrified swearing when the flames rocketed into the sky, harmlessly over the Inferi’s heads. 

‘New plan!’ Selena shrieked, grabbing Albus by the shoulder. ‘ _Inside_!’ 

‘But the null -’ 

A burst of magic from Selena’s wand blew the handle off the door to the church, which swung open to show only gloom inside. ‘We’re Team Slytherin!’ she shouted. ‘He who fights and _runs away_!’ 

Scorpius took one look at the oncoming Inferi and decided that it was, indeed, time for some House spirit. They burst through the door in a panicked bundle, collapsing to the ground once through the threshold, and Albus kicked the door shut behind them. It flapped and he groaned, getting to his feet and putting his shoulder to the wood. ‘Get something to drag in front of it!’ he shouted. ‘We need a barricade!’ 

‘They can’t run around inside an area of dead magic!’ shrieked Selena, staggering upright. 

‘We only _think_ that,’ said Scorpius as he picked himself up. 

Albus grunted. ‘I don’t want to stake our lives on that when I’ve not tested it -’ 

‘What the hell is going on?’ 

They spun at the familiar voice, low and calm from inside the church. The pews were ruined, the entire nave a ruined, crumbled mass cast in gloomy shadows, but from the darkness came a figure, gaunt and limping but _alive_ , not the bone-white, ghoulish shape of the Inferi. 

Selena swore again. ‘Professor Lockett?’ 

Nathalie Lockett lifted a hand defensively. ‘This isn’t possible. You’re all dead.’ 

There was another thud at the door, and Albus gritted his teeth, bracing against the wood. ‘Not yet, but we will be if they get in!’ 

She squinted at them, bewildered. ‘They can’t set foot in here, and they won’t try. One of them did once and became just a corpse. They’re smart enough to _learn._ But what’s going on? How is this possible?’ 

Scorpius’ jaw dropped. ‘You’re saying we’re stuck in here, with no magic, and they can wait on the other side of that doorway forever?’ 

Then, rolling across from the direction of the farmstead, the way Rose had gone with her pack of Inferi, there then came the rumbling, thundering sound of an explosion.

* * 

‘This is bullshit,’ Matt growled from under his tarp shelter on the quarterdeck, bent over the expeditionary writings de Sablé had given him. ‘We just _sit_ here in the storm while they run around on an Inferi-infested island?’ 

Lisa had been ignoring him for the past hour - or had it been days since they’d set off, days of waiting here before the gathering storm and Brillig Island, an island of death? Either way she had not moved from her post at the stern of the ship, gaze locked on the shoreline as the storm drew closer and brought rain, thunder, and lightning down upon a place which had enough trouble already. 

She drew a slow, ragged breath. ‘Albus gave us our orders.’ 

‘Yeah. And we all do what Al says.’ 

‘He was your accepted leader by the time I got here.’ 

‘ _They_ prop him up as leader. Rose and Malfoy especially. But you were perfectly happy to toe the party line when it came to him, weren’t you?’ 

Lisa’s brow furrowed at the accusation in his voice. ‘I have no interest in being the punching bag for your bitterness at a time like this. Theyve decided to go after this woman. You all appear to owe her a lot. And if you or I set foot on Brillig, we stand a chance of being infected with the Eridanos virus at a time where there is possibly no cure.’ 

That wasn’t entirely true. _She_ was immune, the same as all of Thane’s people. But that was Eva’s secret, and there was no way Lisa could explain that. So she would have to act the part, for now. 

Even if something inside of her was going small and tight and angry at standing on the ship and waiting in the silence of the storm. 

‘So better to send four people onto an Inferi-infested island with no backup?’ 

She whirled to face him. ‘I don’t like it either! But unless there’s some sign of them _needing_ us, we’re sticking to the plan. Anything else is the kind of behaviour that gets people killed. The best thing I can do, then, is keep watch. And the best thing _you_ can do is keep studying those documents so we actually _have_ a lead on the Chalice, as we’ve made _no_ progress all week!’ 

Grumbling, Matt bent over his papers and she turned back to Brillig. The storm was directly overhead, now, and through the thick mist of rain that lashed down on the deck of the ship as much as the shore, she had no hope of seeing a sign of human movement. Even necromantic human movement. 

So they waited in relative silence for a while, and she gave a groan of irritation when Matt swore. ‘ _What_?’ 

‘No, not this.’ When she looked over her shoulder, he was bent over his papers. ‘ _Watlings_?’ 

‘What?’ 

Then something on the shore, high up on a hill, exploded. 

‘Merlin’s -’ Matt was by her side at the railing in a heartbeat, papers and islands tucked away and forgotten. ‘What the hell was that?’ 

Lisa lifted a hand to squint through the storm. ‘Fire. A lot of fire. That would take… fuel, or a multi-part ritual setup to trigger an explosion of that size…’ 

‘And fire’s the biggest, best weapon against an Inferius. That _has_ to be them.’ Matt’s lips thinned. ‘If they’re getting that desperate, that’s not good.’ 

_We should wait here_ , Eva told herself. _He gave the orders, you_ _’re compromising your cover by exposing yourself to Eridanos, and, really, what does it matter if they all die? Doyle seems to have a clue. Don’t risk your neck against a swarm of Inferi for them._   
  
Lisa drew a deep breath. ‘Matt?’ 

‘Yeah?’ 

‘Go fetch your sword. We’re going after them.’ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Obviously liberties have been taken with the portrayal of Inferi here, excused as it is that these are mystically souped-up Inferi._


	43. Bad Moon Rising

‘This is a terrible idea.’ 

Lisa hunkered back behind the rocky outcropping and glared at Matt. ‘You can go back to the boat.’ 

‘No. But going cross-country isn’t a great idea.’ 

The rain was still coming down. The storm was less violent, the thunder less regular, but they were still left making their way through the woodlands with slick mud underfoot, lashing winds soaking them. Matt had taken one look at the conditions and grabbed his thick coat, but she hadn’t bothered. A little wet and cold were the least of her concerns, and she wanted to be quick on her feet, ready to move. 

‘They’ll have gone across the paths. Looked to the areas of civilisation, and that seems to have got them in trouble. So we’re _not_ going that way.’ 

‘I thought we were looking for them?’ 

‘Of course we are. But I’m going to start with _that_.’ Lisa nodded at the rising plume of smoke that came from atop the hill. ‘It looks like their sort of calling card. Come on.’ 

She barely waited for him. In an ideal world, he wouldn’t have come with her. But she knew he wouldn’t agree to stay behind, and they were both supposed to be vulnerable to the Eridanos plague, so there was no logical argument he’d accept for her going alone. Telling him that he’d slow her down would be the truth, but Matt would say that one person going on their own was equally, if not more dangerous. She was used to their arguments. Their conviction that unity of weakness was better than an individual’s strength. 

On the one hand, if she was committed to the individual, she’d never be here. On the other, she wanted to do this _her_ way. It seemed that by no means was she going to get what she wanted. 

She still moved as if she was on any professional job, and reasoned that at best, Matt might learn something from her - at worst, he might draw attention before her. The storm made footing bad but visibility worse, and she just hoped that would go for the Inferi as much as them. Did they sense life? Smell people? She’d never been on a Council operation with the creatures before. It hadn’t been relevant knowledge. Now it was _very_ relevant. 

Her footsteps were light as she picked a way through the woodlands and up the hill which would cause the least sound, rustle the undergrowth the least. Stillness in nature was not stealthy; nature was almost never still, and so she kept her movements flowing, her gait smooth. Her posture was low as she moved from cover to cover, and she was gratified that she could barely hear Matt behind her. He was no professional, but he was smart enough to watch how she moved and ape her technique. 

The plume of smoke rose through the trees, her guiding star. Probably Scorpius’ work, she reasoned. Something large and unsubtle was his style, and fire was the best weapon against Inferi, and it was a whole lot clearer all of a sudden as she passed through the trees. Not closer, but clearer, and she realised they were coming up on a glade. And despite everything she’d just thought about nature not being still, everything was _still_. 

Rain still slicked her hair down, clung her clothes to her body. The wind still tugged its fingers through branches and leaves, but it was with the sound of crackles and crunches, not rustling. And while Brillig Island had been quiet, there had still been the odd sound of a bird, the odd indication of minor wildlife moving through the undergrowth. Now there was nothing. Matt’s hand at her elbow almost made her jump, and Lisa scowled. She needed to be more aware of her surroundings, even when they were eerie, and she lifted a hand to keep him silent. He gestured to the clearing ahead. 

Despite her better judgement, she nodded and then slid towards the open ground. 

They were upwind, and so at the outskirts of the clearing before the stench hit the back of her nostrils. She heard Matt retch behind her and couldn’t bring herself to criticise, because the smell was enough to stagger her, too. That, and she knew this smell, knew what was coming, knew there was little in the world which would bring that particular miasma of rotting, of decay, and of _death_. So the open mass grave was of little surprise to her when they saw the ground dip down to the piles of bodies. 

‘Fucking hell,’ was all Matt managed to get out before he doubled over and lost his lunch. 

Lisa breathed through her mouth - no, Eva, _Eva_ breathed through her mouth and rose to the forefront and dulled every feeling, every sense in her except for the calm, iron grip of emotionless professionalism. Anything less and she’d be joining Matt on his hands and knees. ‘Eridanos can’t have a one hundred per cent conversion rate,’ she said in a flat voice, Eva’s voice, which sounded foreign to her own ears by now. ‘The young, the very old; it just rots them up and kills them. And perhaps the quite weak.’ 

Matt straightened with a groan, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘This is where the… first dead were buried, before they all succumbed?’ 

‘Not just.’ An ivory-white arm, its fingers clawed, elongated, bone-like and ending in razor-sharp nails, stuck out from the pile of murdered witches and wizards of Brillig Island. ‘Some had already converted. Quite a few. Look?’ 

‘What the _hell_ are -’ 

‘Inferi. Or, Inferi as Eridanos makes them.’ She’d never seen one herself, but Thane’s men had. They didn’t discuss the details of the plague or its magical properties, but one fact had been universally acknowledged even amongst hardened mercenaries: these dark creatures were creepy as all hell. She’d heard the descriptions. Matt was too nauseated to ask how she knew, and her gaze swept further over the mass grave. ‘I don’t want to begin to guess how many bodies are here. Some of these are just the dead, some of these are Inferi. Brillig Island didn’t have that big a population.’ 

‘So Eridanos doesn’t convert everyone… and the Inferi _do_ die. Perhaps after days of their own accord; they can’t last _forever_. Maybe they need more magic, maybe they need some other sustenance…’ He was thinking, and she couldn’t help but approve. That was how you stopped being overwhelmed by these sorts of horrors: keep thinking, keep moving. 

‘Except somehow the bodies got here. Maybe they came here to die… or someone or something _brought_ them here.’ 

‘Great.’ Matt was still pale, but had steeled himself. ‘This isn’t getting us closer to finding the others.’ 

‘It’s not. Though at least we know we don’t have to fight through the _entire_ population of -’ 

When a flash of white lunged out from the trees to her left, Lisa was ashamed to admit her reflex reaction was a Stun. This did the trick in most fights, but she was holding herself back, too long spent with the Five dulling her lethal instincts. And against an Inferius it was a completely useless spell. The magic thudded into the bony-white hide of the dark creature but not for a moment did it slow its loping charge. 

A yell from Matt suggested they had more than one visitor, but Lisa’s world was narrowing to nothing more than this fight and her survival. The creature coming at her didn’t just have claws, but was clutching a knife that it slashed at her face. She ducked under the swing, drove her shoulder into its midriff. Its momentum carried it on, flipped over her back and onto the ground, and she didn’t hesitate to ram her wand under its chin. 

‘ _Conflagio_.’ A good spell against Inferi. Hotter and more dangerous than _Incendio_ , but less accurate over distances. She was not at a distance. 

The Inferius’ head smoldered and the creature lay still, and she turned at the thudding of more footsteps. Matt had blasted down a second charging Inferius - like she should have done in the first place - but there was a third. Exploiting the distractions of its fellows, it was almost upon her, and she snapped her wand up. 

Matt got there before she could. His shoulder hit it first, but the Templar sword was in his hand and _that_ struck second, running through the creature’s chest. It fell, but despite the single blow it had taken, despite how notoriously resilient Inferi were, it did as as a corpse was supposed to, and lay still. Matt’s chest was heaving as he turned for the woodlands, and he barely paused to wipe sticky, black, dead blood off his face. ‘Do you see any?’ 

She was beside him, wand raised, in a heartbeat, and they took a moment in silence before she shook her head. ‘Clear.’ He groaned and lowered the sword, and her lips twitched. ‘Nice moves.’ 

‘I thought the sword would disrupt the necromantic energies animating them. Guess I was right.’ His lips were thin and pale, his eyes wide, and she could almost feel the fear running through him. But he was in control. 

Good. She had no time for panicking. Lisa’s gaze fell on the Inferius she’d killed, its head by now ashes atop a skeletal corpse. ‘They’re smart. Ambush tactics. Phased assault.’ She bent down and reached for its hand. ‘This one even had a knife.’ 

‘I don’t know if I’m comforted it’s using something other than its creepy claw-hands, or worried they’ve developed tool-use.’ 

She turned the knife over in her hand, eyes narrowing. This wasn’t a kitchen implement or a potioneer’s tool. It was long, curved, vicious. Ritualistic. ‘Neither. We have work to do. And if they’re out in small groups in the woodlands, we shouldn’t linger.’ 

‘And the others need us.’ 

They moved, filled with a new determination born of horror and fear. The woodlands were patchier as they left the mass grave with its countless bodies of fallen witches and wizards, fallen Inferi, and though Lisa loathed the loss of cover, it at least reduced the chance of an Inferius ambush. 

Soon enough the plume of smoke was joined by a new shape in the sky, the tall shadow of an old stone tower at the top of the hill. The rain made it hard to hear, but as they crested the rise and saw the ruins of other, smaller buildings, the thudding and scratching from one of them reached Lisa’s ears. ‘More of them,’ she muttered. 

Matt stopped by the remains of a crumbled wall, hunkering down. ‘I see them. A dozen or so, around that church. They’re bashing on the doors and windows to get in.’ 

‘The others?’ 

‘Maybe, but that doesn’t explain the smoke. And I don’t know how we’re carving through a dozen Inferi when it’s just us.’ 

‘Fire. A lot of it.’ 

Matt’s lips thinned. ‘I know there’s a multiple-part fire spell - you rig up different locations with a specific runic component and then when you set it off, the whole thing goes up. Rose was talking about it for this job, but I don’t remember…’ Then his gaze landed on the rising smoke, and Lisa wondered if this was what it was like to watch someone’s heart clench into a fist. ‘Rose…’ 

She grabbed his elbow. ‘Rose is one I’d give better odds of survival. She may have set that off and is now with the others inside. It might not have been her. We have to keep our heads, and take stock of the situation.’ Then she looked to the tower, and her chest tightened as she saw a shadow of movement at the top of it, a shape for a moment silhouetted against the stormy sky. ‘There’s someone up there.’ 

Matt ducked down. ‘One of them?’ 

She lowered her profile and studied the figure, and within a matter of heartbeats realised she knew that short, squat, scruffy shape. She drew a shaking breath. ‘No. It must be a Council wizard.’ 

‘How can you tell?’ 

‘Because I recognise him. That’s Elijah Downing.’ 

His gaze darkened. ‘Shit, they must have some sort of control over the Inferi or the like. That would explain bodies being dumped in one place, ambushing parties, pinning the others inside that church like that. We’ve got to get him.’ 

‘No.’ Lisa spoke quicker than she meant, and gritted her teeth. ‘He’s up there, we’re down here.’ 

‘He needs to be -’ 

‘Dealt with, yes. But we’d have to get the drop on him. I’m capable of that. _You_ _’re_ not.’ 

Matt turned to her, eyes blazing. ‘I am not waiting down here while you face him on your own.’ 

‘You’re half-right. I am facing him on my own. But congratulations, Matthias Doyle. You get to go play the hero for Rose Weasley.’ It was a cheap trick. A cheap manipulation, and one which might just get him killed, racing off on his own into unknown territory. But she had to face Elijah Downing on her own or this would all be over. 

Though she wasn’t sure how she wanted this to end.

* * 

‘This is impossible,’ said Nathalie Lockett in a low, flat voice. ‘You’re dead.’ 

‘So people keep telling us.’ Scorpius hurried over. ‘We heard Brillig Island had gone dark, we came to _rescue_ you -’ 

But she pulled back, into the rows of shattered pews of the ancient, derelict church. ‘What did you do to get detention that -’ 

‘Blew up your supply cupboard with an Exploding Elixir and then lied about it.’ He gritted his teeth. ‘We got off Kythos before the explosion. We just kept a low profile because we didn’t know how our location was betrayed. It’s _us_ , Professor.’ 

‘I thought I told you to stop calling me that?’ 

‘In Diagon Alley the last time we met, yes. You said I should be the Official Meddler at your wedding.’ 

Lockett’s jaw dropped. ‘So you really did just come all this way to fail to rescue me and to wander _right_ into the trap?’ 

Albus was dragging furniture in front of the door, but he looked over at this. ‘Trap?’ 

‘Of course.’ Lockett watched as Selena swore and kicked an ancient book stand so hard it exploded with the impact of dust, centuries, and a blonde’s tantrum. ‘You think I put myself in a no-magic field out of _choice_?’ 

‘Maybe the only choice,’ said Scorpius. ‘What happened here?’ 

She sighed and slumped onto one of the pews which could hold her weight. In the shadows of the old stone building, in the gloom of the boarded windows and the gathering storm, she looked old. He knew she was about his father’s age, but with all the avoidance of responsibility he’d watched her practice for the last year, he thought of her as younger. Now she looked as decrepit and worn as the run-down church they cowered in. ‘Normally Eridanos relief missions aren’t a problem. Normally the task force arrives, we start to cure and quarantine people and get them off-site, and then we purge the location of any remains of the plague. But Brillig went bad from the start.’ 

Selena leaned against a pillar and folded her arms across her chest. ‘It’s evidently got lovelier and lovelier.’ 

Lockett grimaced. ‘Something delayed the emergency message, so when we got here the situation was more advanced than we thought. A notable portion of the populace were already dead and roaming the local area as Inferi. That sometimes happens and we set up our usual defences while we worked on the living, but…’ She shook her head. ‘Inferi are pretty dumb. These ones aren’t. They’re smart; they’re thinking, they’re being tactical. Eridanos makes its Inferi more cunning and feral but this is something different. They used tactics we weren’t ready for and tore down our defences. Everyone who wasn’t killed was infected, we lost the boat, and anyone who could communicate with the outside world, too. We went on the run across the island, trying to avoid roaming mobs of Inferi, but the rest of the team succumbed to Eridanos soon enough. In the end it was only Harley and me left.’ 

‘Harley’s here?’ 

‘He’s probably dead now. But I’m immune and he’s a House Elf -’ 

Scorpius lifted a hand. ‘I mean, he’s not in _Hogwarts_?’ 

She shook her head. ‘After Phlegethon he came to work with me. A few of the House Elves did. They can’t be affected by the plague, and so a few volunteers are with the task force. They can go we can’t and the free ones like him are _shockingly_ powerful if they put their mind to it. I only lasted as long as I did because of his magic. And the Inferi got wise to that, too, and stopped engaging us directly. They just herded us up here…’ 

‘What happened to him?’ 

‘We were worrying so badly about Inferi that we didn’t stop to think there might be something else on this island to worry about. But there definitely is.’ Lockett’s brow furrowed deeper. ‘Downing.’ 

Albus jerked. ‘ _Him_?’ 

‘He’s here. I think he’s why the Inferi are smarter and more cunning; I think he’s controlling them somehow, influencing them, directing them. He ambushed Harley and me, knocked him out and grabbed him, and then had me herded into here. _He_ must have set up this null field. That’s incredibly advanced magic - to negate magic itself? He must have tied it into the necromantic energies infesting Brillig now that Eridanos is running amok; it’s the only thing that could power something like this, and it keeps me unfortunately nice and tidily locked up. He’s probably killed Harley - the only way a wizard could otherwise incapacitate an elf is throw him in here with me, or keep him unconscious.’ 

Selena cocked her head. ‘So why didn’t he kill _you_?’ 

Lockett shrugged. ‘I hate to say it, but I think you’re the reason. Maybe not you explicitly, but a rescue party. No relief mission’s gone this badly. The Council like to brag about their successes, and that requires making this as messy and brutal as possible. He’s probably kept me here in case I can be used as bait for more, and bigger fish.’ She looked at them. ‘And you five are amongst the biggest fish of all. Where’s Rose, and Doyle? I assume they’re all right, or Scorpius would be destroying the furniture by now.’ 

‘Doyle’s not immune; he’s back on our boat,’ said Scorpius. ‘Rose is - that explosion.’ 

Lockett drew a slow breath. ‘They _are_ susceptible to fire.’ 

‘They can’t stay outside all the time,’ said Albus, pressed against the door. ‘They weren’t here when we got here.’ 

‘They leave, sometimes. For a time. I don’t know how far; I don’t go looking. I’m on my own - I wouldn’t get far before a pack of them found me and then I’d be meat. And even if I made it, where would I go? I’ve had no means of getting off this island.’ 

Scorpius looked at Albus. ‘But we do. And there are more of us.’ 

Albus nodded. ‘We just have to hope these Inferi wander off so we can make a break for it. Or we need to come up with a better idea. Preferably _before_ Downing, if he’s out there, realises we’re here and changes things up.’ 

Lockett shook her head. ‘He’ll know you’re here. You saw that tower? That’s where he’s camping out. He can see most of the island from up there; he’ll have seen your boat, and he’ll have seen your little show down there.’ 

‘Then the question comes,’ said Selena, ‘of what he’ll do now he’s got us.’

* * 

The exposed back of Elijah Downing was one of the most beautiful sights Lisa had seen in her life. He was stood atop the old watchtower, looking down at Brillig Island like a god of death poised and waiting for the next soul to be plucked off the mortal coil. Calm. Superior. In control. It would have been so easy for her to extend her wand and give it a twirl and let him, too, fall subject to the surly bonds of Earth. 

Except that Downing was an expert in hanging shields and other protections which kept him safe against magical ambush, and so there was no way it would work. Besides. He knew she was there. 

He turned at her footsteps, the storm ebbing away overhead. Sunlight clawed through thick clouds to paint a hazy halo across the back of his head, and it wasn’t just his vindictive nature that had her snorting internally at the imagery. Angels weren’t this petty and malicious, but she figured they generally weren’t short, squat, and ugly, either. 

‘Saida. S’been a while. Were surprised to see you here.’ His craggy features broke into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. 

‘Downing. Likewise.’ She padded forwards but stopped in the middle of the wide, circular rooftop. Matt was out there, and who knew for sure where the others were? If she could spot Downing from the ground, she didn’t want to be seen chatting up here with him. ‘What the hell is going on?’ 

‘Eridanos. One last hurrah.’ He sounded wistful. 

‘So it’s true? There’s only a finite amount.’ 

Downing nodded. ‘The boffins know the full of it. But so these things work, they need energy from the underworld, or where the fuck ever. Eridanos was cooked up in a ritual site the Council lost control of. So we’ve only got the batches we made, then, bang, no more Eridanos. This one was one of the last.’ 

‘But… what’re you doing here? I thought you dropped this plague and then left the IMC to clean up the mess.’ 

He shrugged. ‘The higher ups want bigger and better, don’t they? You know that, it’s why we’re after the Chalice. But the Council’s always got lots of irons in the fire, so’s their way. They wanted to see how much someone tapped in could control the Eridanos Inferi. So this here’s waging a war _and_ a spot of field testing.’ 

She didn’t know if it was new for her to find that macabre. She’d never approved of the near-academic approach Thane and some others had taken to death and violence. It distracted from the purpose. Though this was one of the few matters where she and Downing agreed. He would just be doing as he was told. ‘They want the next phase to make them easier to control, then.’ 

Downing nodded, and turned back to the view of Brillig Island. ‘I’m ironing out the kinks in the mechanisms they’ll use for Project Starfall. And, y’know. Kill as many folks as possible along the way. Just to remind them to be shit-scared of the Council.’ 

‘I don’t think anyone’s getting complacent.’ Her gaze swept around the rooftop. She’d passed the floor below, where Downing had a bedroll and a few miserable supplies - not to mention something else that had caught her eye. ‘Why do you have a House Elf unconscious downstairs?’ 

‘Him? He was with the task force. Lockett seems to value him, though. Keeping him around in case I need a hostage, like.’ 

‘You’ve got her prisoner?’ 

‘Good bait, she is. That and she got hit with the immunity at Hogwarts, so I’ve got to hope the Inferi kill her outright or else it’s pointless. I can starve her out and make her useful. Besides.’ He gave an unpleasant grin. ‘I got new prisoners now.’ 

‘The church?’ 

‘Three of them.’ 

‘And what about the explosion?’ 

He scowled. ‘One of them made off, lured them into one of the barns. Stupid beggars followed ‘em in, didn’t they? Then the whole thing blew up. Still.’ A sniff. ‘Didn’t see nobody walk away from it. You sent the one you’re with that way?’ 

‘He’ll want to rescue her.’ She made sure she sounded like she didn’t care. 

‘I can set some Inferi on him, no problem.’ Downing looked back at her. ‘Then we can, I don’t know, bring the church down on them, or I can drop the null field and let the Inferi get in and rip them apart, too. And we can be gone. I think there’s nothing more what needs proving here.’ 

Something icy clawed in her chest. ‘You’re going to kill the Five?’ 

‘We. Don’t look at me like that, Saida -’ 

‘Thane said -’ 

‘Thane ain’t calling the shots in the Council so much as he might like.’ He waved an impatient hand. ‘He fusses about factions and shit, but for every group in the Council of Thorns who’ll throw a hissyfit because folks actually fucking die in a war, there’s another group who’ll shower you in galleons. And for killing the Five? Fuck Thane. He’ll shake his head and look disapproving but he won’t do a damn thing, and we’ll be _golden_ with Raskoph.’ 

‘You want to be golden with Raskoph?’ 

‘He’s the new rising star. And those who think like us will pay a _mint_ , Saida. Even if Thane’s pissed off it won’t _matter_ , ‘cos he won’t be able to touch us. He’s fucked up too many times. Tomar, Kythos seeing as you lot ain’t dead, Monte Carlo, Hogwarts. You don’t want to get too close to him.’ 

‘Tomar and Kythos are certainly Raskoph’s failures a much, if not more, than Prometheus’s.’ But this wasn’t a good argument, and Lisa drew an unsteady breath as she realised she didn’t know what she _was_ arguing. ‘He thinks Scorpius Malfoy’s too dangerous to kill. His father’s in on the Council.’ 

‘But we killed his son before, didn’t we, and the sky didn’t fall in. It’s only his bloody name that keeps him favoured by some folks. Stop fussing so much about pissing people off, Saida. This ain’t like you. We do the job, we get paid, and we don’t fuck around with politics.’ 

‘Since when did you and I agree on anything?’ 

He cocked his head. ‘I thought you’d be glad to stop playing girl scout with a bunch of school-kids?’ 

She lifted a hand. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I’ll be happy when this job is over. But I’ve been told to work with them to get the Chalice. And they _can_ get the Chalice.’ 

‘Do they know where it is?’ 

‘No, but they’ve got documents…’ She faltered as she realised where this would go. And knew the only way was forwards. ‘On the boat. Records giving them a trail.’ 

‘Fantastic.’ Downing grinned. ‘Let’s kill them and take the documents to Raskoph. Then we’re onto a right winner.’ 

He turned and strutted towards her, a small figure in a ridiculous scruffy coat who was nevertheless one of the most dangerous wizards she’d met and a man who could make her skin _truly_ crawl. There was no care in his eye, no thought or consideration that he was suggesting they murder six people, and certainly not a moment’s thought given to the fact that the last time they’d met he’d been beating her into looking like a good prisoner. 

She took a deep breath. ‘Is it just you here?’ 

‘Yeah. Been here a while, but they told me about Tomar, told me you weren’t dead.’ He brightened up. ‘What do you know? I were actually _glad_ to hear it. Never would have figured, hey?’ He smacked her on the arm as he reached her, a companionable gesture she had to fight to not flinch away from. 

_Even when you_ _’re Eva Saida, you’re lying._ The thought tore itself into her mind with all of the devastation of a blowtorch, and it was a fight to keep _that_ shock off her face, too. ‘Let’s just get this done and kill those damn children.’ 

He was in too good a mood to notice any quavers she was sure were in her voice, probably too pleased at the prospect of getting off the island and his miserable, fatal vigil. He laughed as he headed for the stairs. ‘Good! For a moment you had me worried, there, Saida. I was afraid you’d stopped being a bloody-minded killer.’ 

Elijah Downing was among the best wizards in the world when it came to hanging shield spells. He was paranoid almost to the point of compulsion, and any spell she dropped on him would bounce, making it impossible to take him by surprise with magic. Or, this was what she told herself was the justification for stepping up behind him, wrapping her left arm around his neck, and plunging the knife she’d taken from the Inferius earlier into his unprotected back. 

Because his shield spells wouldn’t protect against mundane metal. 

‘No,’ Eva breathed in his ear as he twitched and gurgled, struggling against her grip but weakening quickly. ‘No, I’m still a killer. That much hasn’t changed.’

* * 

‘I have no idea what I’m doing.’ Matt hunkered behind a collapsed wall of the ruins of one of the farmhouses and stuck his head up only an inch over the top. Smoke greeted him, a blackened mist falling upon bare ground and dancing between the looming shadows that were the remains of the barn. His eye was drawn to every flicker of movement, fearful of an Inferius prowling towards him, but it was never more than the spot-fires playing tricks of light and dark. 

A sweep of his wand over the area gave no immediate signs of nearby magic. But then, he was nowhere as well-practiced in this as Rose, and only the very powerful magical signatures would show up on something as simplistic as this. Not people or monsters. But just as he was about to give up, something at the leftmost corner of the ruins tingled in his mind, a faint glimmer. 

It was all he had to go on. 

He kept his head low as he moved, feeling his way so he didn’t step on anything that would crunch. The crackling of lingering spot-fires was enough sound to mask his movement, which was just as well as fifteen minutes spent watching a professional was no compensation for actual training. But there was no reaction, so he slunk through the smoke to the shattered remains of the corner of the barn, a heavier chunk of masonry that had resisted the initial explosion. 

Once he was close, he could see the dull glow of the carving etched into the broken brickwork. One line remained, but Matt recognised the remains of a runic marking for the exact explosive spell Rose had been talking about. It had been here. She’d been here. But where now? Probably taking cover like him, and if they were both trying to hide that would make finding one another difficult. Not to mention that she didn’t know he was here. And that was assuming she was all right. That was assuming she’d had the chance to get out before the barn had gone up. 

Left hand on his sword hilt, wand lifted in his right hand, Matt entered the ruins of the barn. 

It was darker here, the smoke blacker and thicker, though the roof had been blown clean off, as had most of the walls. Rubble lay around him, and in the gloom he could see the still, white shapes of Inferi destroyed by the flames or crushed by the rubble. A hand, sticking out from under a pile of fallen masonry, twitched on his right. He started, before he saw the body was too pinned to move. The head remained intact, the Inferius struggling on. 

Dark creatures did not die easily. But they did die. As he trooped through the wreckage he counted the remains of at least a dozen bodies, blackened and charred by the explosion or dropped by the collapse of the building. His chest tightened even as he tried to keep his footsteps quiet, his breathing slow and steady. If she’d been in here, how could she have survived? Even they didn’t - 

When he heard the Inferi’s growls again, he almost jumped out of his skin. But it came from ahead and he couldn’t _see_ anything, the smoke and darkness were so thick, so he threw himself behind a fallen pillar, next to the stench of a rotting, dropped corpse. He went very still as he tried to not gag from the smell and the fear. 

But the growling continued - three, four of them? - and a low scratching noise, and none of it getting closer. There were some still standing, and they hadn’t noticed him. Something else had their attention. 

_Rose?_

An image flashed through his mind of them clawing over her corpse, and he slammed his eyes shut. This was no time to panic, to borrow imagined trouble. The facts were bad enough. But he still couldn’t _see_ through the smoke. 

Heart thudding in his chest, Matt peered over the masonry and into the gloom then carefully, very carefully, lifted his wand. He barely dared _think_ the spell to send the gentlest gust of wind out, but it came, more like a breath on the air than a breeze. It was as if the smoke was made up of many veils, for the spell did not part it but stripped off layers, just enough layers that he could see the shapes in the gloom of the ruined barn. 

A wall had fallen atop a section of rubble and, lying at an angle, left a tiny alcove no taller than two feet at the highest. By the gap the four Inferi were hunched, clawing into the space they couldn’t reach, their hissing growls echoing. Matt’s brow furrowed with confusion until he saw, fallen near the Inferi’s feet, a wand. Now he knew what the hole was: a hiding place. 

_Rose_. 

Was she alive in there? Conscious? Injured? He couldn’t tell. There was only one option. 

Just him. Four Inferi. Time to be a hero. And the most maddening thing was that, with impossible odds before him, a do-or-die situation, one thought ran through his head, one question: w _hat would Malfoy do?_   
  
_Forget Malfoy. Are you a Gryffindor or not? He_ _’s not here. You are. And you’re a better duellist than him, a better wizard, a_ smarter _wizard, and if you want to keep believing that, Matty, you better cowboy the hell up and save the girl._   
  
His way. 

The first spell exploded from his wand, a burst of flame that engulfed the Inferius the furthest on the left, and it staggered with a rattling, hissing breath before it collapsed. _One_ _’s always easy when you get the drop on them. Now you’ve got three, and they know you’re here._ He was running as they wheeled around, because distance was his advantage. Except he was in a confined, smoky space with rubble and debris strewn about, and if he put a foot wrong, he’d be dead. 

He couldn’t summon the energy for another engulfing flame spell immediately, so he lashed his wand out to the side and then swept it in front of him. His spell dragged chunks of masonry as big as him through the air, thudded them into one of the Inferi and dropped it. It wasn’t pinned. It would rise again. _Two._

Two, right in his face, because they were faster than him and weren’t half-running backwards. One lunged and Matt hurled himself to the side. He swished wand at the other’s ankles, yanked them out from under it. It landed on the rubble with a crack he knew wouldn’t stop it. 

The one on its feet rounded on him, a clawed hand swatting at his face. But the Templar blade was like a living weapon in his hand - no, more like an extension of his being as he drew it. The edge bit into the flesh of the Inferius’ arm and kept going like there was no resistance. With a gurgling growl, the Inferius stumbled back, a stump where its arm had been. _One._

Then the one on the ground grabbed his ankle, and it was Matt’s turn to be pulled off his feet. His head struck the stone floor, hard, and sparks exploded in front of his eyes. Sparks, and white shapes moving on the ground next to him. _Live now. Be dazed later._ He rolled, a clawed hand slamming into the stone where he’d been a heartbeat before, and rose to a kneel, wand before him. ‘ _Incendio_!’ 

Flames burst up its legs and it fell, writhing with a gurgling growl. Matt held his wand steady for as long as he dared, feeding the magic, fuelling the flames, but then the Inferius he’d struck with masonry was on its feet, loping across the distance towards him. He sent a burst of flame at that one, too - but it ducked and rolled, the magic flying overhead. 

Then it pounced. 

It was stronger than it looked, hands slamming into his shoulders, knocking him back, cracking him into the ground again. The fanged, skull-like face leered down at him, the sunken eyes like twin black portals to oblivion and he was trapped, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything. Except twist his wrist, and wrench around the sword he’d lifted so the creature had impaled itself as it landed. 

That did it, and with one last gurgle, the Inferius collapsed atop him. Motionless. Dead. He lay there a moment, gasping for breath, fighting for his wits, before he tried to shove the corpse off him. It was heavier than he expected and he grunted with the effort, freed his right arm, kept pushing - 

And looked up at the next growl to see the one-armed Inferius, the only one not slain by the sword or fire, looming over him. His wand was pinned under the body, and the sword was still stuck in the corpse, and he couldn’t pull himself free as the last Inferius lunged. 

‘ _Incendio_!’ 

Then flames engulfed it all at once, and it collapsed to the ground to start crackling away into ash and dust. 

‘Rose?’ 

She was stood over the first Inferius he’d killed, a mess of soot and dirt, wand in one hand, the shimmering cloth of the Invisibility Cloak in the other, gasping for breath. ‘What the _hell_ are you doing here?’ 

He pushed the body off and got to his feet. ‘What does it look like? Saving you!’ He yanked the Templar sword free. 

‘You’re not immune! You could get infected!’ Rose stalked over, dark eyes wide, and he saw the limp in her gait. 

‘And you and the others were _trapped_. We didn’t have a choice. What even happened to you? I saw the runes…’ 

Her jaw set. ‘I lured them into the barn, then used the Invisibility Cloak to prepare the runes. But they started to disperse when they lost sight of me, so I had to set it off when I was closer than I’d have liked…’ She drew a slow breath. ‘I got singed in the blast, the Cloak got blown off me, I dropped my wand, and I didn’t get all of them. So I had to crawl into that space. They couldn’t get to me, but they knew I was there and they were blocking the way out, so even if I put the Cloak on…’ 

‘And what was your great plan?’ he demanded, shoulders squaring. ‘Wait for the ageless agents of death to get bored and let you slip past them?’ 

She tilted her chin up an inch, defiant. ‘I didn’t have a choice. There were _twenty_ of them, Matthias. The four of us couldn’t take them in a straight fight.’ 

He heard the unspoken message loud and clear: that even if they killed her, it was worth it. His lip curled despite himself. ‘Didn’t have a choice. I guess that answers why _I_ _’m_ here, too. Besides, I’m fine. They didn’t get me.’ His gaze lingered on her a moment, and he stepped closer. ‘Are _you_ okay? Your leg -’ 

‘Hurts. But I’m okay. And _you_ are _crazy_.’ Rose’s eyes flashed, but he knew that anger by now, knew it masked real fear, real concern, and for a moment all he could think was that he’d love to kiss that fear away. 

_Now is not the time._   
  
_Correction. She doesn_ _’t want you to kiss her at all._ Never _is the time._   
  
The thought didn’t hurt as much as he’d expected. She was alive. So was he. That was all that mattered. 

Then she looked back towards the tower, back towards where he’d seen the boarded-up church and where he’d left Lisa. ‘Have you seen the others? Is Lisa with you?’ 

He winced. ‘She’s with me. It looks like they got penned in at the church, but… the Inferi aren’t alone, Rose. There’s someone here to control them; it’s why they’ve been so tactical, setting up ambushes and roaming search parties and the like.’ Matt hesitated. ‘Lisa thinks it’s Downing. She’s gone after him.’ 

The flash in her eyes, a whole new kind of fear, was like a knife in his heart. She grabbed his sleeve. ‘He’ll _kill_ her. And then the others. We’ve got to go help them.’ Then she was turning to leave, limping in the direction he’d come from. 

‘Rose - Rose, we can’t both fit under the cloak, you’re _injured_ -’ 

He caught the Invisibility Cloak as he threw it to her. ‘Then you can wear it and I’ll be slow. But I’m going after them.’ 

Matt’s lips thinned, and he jogged to catch up with her, sheathing his sword again. ‘I think you know,’ he said, voice low and wry, ‘that I don’t have a choice in this, either.’


	44. In the Dead Vast

The last thing Lisa expected the House Elf to say when woke him, ‘Who the hell are you?’ 

She’d never known what to make of House Elves. She wasn’t someone who made others do her work for her. But she knew enough to be surprised by a surly attitude, even from an elf who’d been incapacitated for days. ‘I’m here to rescue you.’ 

Cautious, he looked up. ‘He’s up there,’ the House Elf breathed. ‘Keeping watch.’ 

‘He’s not going to watch anything any more.’ 

Their eyes met. Then the House Elf nodded. ‘Good. Untie me?’ 

She did, then hauled him to his feet. ‘My name’s Lisa. You’re here with Nathalie Lockett?’ 

‘Harley.’ He wore, she could see, the remains of a little suit, and unbuttoned the sleeves of his filthy white shirt to roll them up. ‘I’m with Ms Granger’s Task Force. You know the Prof?’ 

‘I don’t, but my friends do.’ _Friends. Hell._ ‘Except three of them are trapped in the church, and one’s gone off trying to rescue another. So it might just be you and me now. And there’s a _lot_ of Inferi out there.’ 

‘Not a problem. You got a way off this island?’ She nodded, and Harley turned for the stairs. ‘Then let’s get your mates and get the hell out of here.’ 

She was taking tactical advice from a House Elf, and the most maddening thing was that she followed. ‘You have a plan?’ 

‘If Downing’s dead, they’re going to be dumber. That helps. But there’s a reason he kept me unconscious. He knows he should be afraid of free elves. He’s wrangled with us before.’ 

Lisa had to bite back her exclamation of realisation. She’d heard of the prisoner exchange for Downing, the meeting where Prometheus had lost the Resurrection Stone. Of how Scorpius had double-crossed their double-cross by bringing House Elves along, elves prepared to fight against wizards and had given Thane’s team a run for their money. She’d laughed like a drain, full of unkind bitterness, when she’d first heard the story. Now she was relieved. ‘You can handle a dozen Inferi?’ 

Harley looked over his shoulder at her as he tromped down the cold stone steps leading through the dark, decrepit watchtower. ‘Girl, I can summon a bloody inferno.’

* * 

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

Albus whirled to the thudding on the church doors. ‘Something’s got them angry!’ 

Lockett lifted a hand. ‘They can’t cross the threshold! They’re just trying to rattle us, make us do something stupid.’ 

Wood splintered, and Scorpius flinched. ‘How sure of that are you? When did this last happen?’ 

‘Three days ago?’ 

The remaining glass on the window to his left shattered as a clawed, bone-white hand yanked at the board blocking it. ‘And it’s impossible that Downing didn’t somehow make them immune?’ 

Lockett faltered. ‘I don’t know. This is very rare magic…’ 

‘Okay! We’re not taking that chance!’ Albus strode to the nave and grabbed the end of one of the pews. ‘Scorp, give me a hand, we’ll redouble the barricades. Selena, Professor… see if there’s any other way out of here.’ 

‘There _isn_ _’t_ ,’ said Lockett. ‘You think I didn’t try that?’ 

‘Except you didn’t want to be out in the open on your own. If we’re out in the open, that’s four of us. Better that than being in a confined space with Inferi pouring in through the doors and windows.’ 

‘The windows are boarded up. There’s no back door,’ said Lockett. While Selena was going from window to window, she hadn’t moved, frowning as Scorpius and Albus began lugging furniture. ‘I wouldn’t say we’re doomed lightly.’ 

‘You’re a pessimist, Professor,’ said Albus neutrally. ‘Always have been.’ 

‘I call it a realist and apparently I was once _quite_ the joker…’ 

‘This is great!’ called Selena from the back. ‘Let’s keep arguing over how jovial we will or won’t be be when we die!’ 

‘I see coming back from the dead hasn’t affected anyone’s sense of humour,’ Lockett mumbled. 

There was a splintering crunch from the door-hinges, and Albus swore. ‘More barricades, Scorp - Scorp?’ 

Scorpius had been staring at the ceiling, but his gaze snapped back at his name. ‘Up.’ 

‘What?’ 

He pointed at the roof. ‘This null-magic field has a limited range. That’s got to include upwards, right?’ 

Selena gave him a look. ‘Manifested non-magical flight lately, Scorpius?’ 

‘It’s called _climbing_ -’ 

Then another clawed hand exploded through the shattering remains of the door, and Albus reeled back with a yell as he caught a swipe to the shoulder. Scorpius thundered beside him, hefting a broken pew leg, and swung it at the arm over and over, until the Inferius pulled back. They could still hear scrabbling on wood as the swarm tried to widen the gap they’d made. ‘Al!’ 

Albus clutched his shoulder. ‘I’m okay. It’s not too deep, it just surprised me.’ 

Lockett hurried over, swatting his hands away so she could see the wound. ‘Could be worse,’ she agreed, even though blood was starting to stain his t-shirt. ‘You’re lucky we’ve all still got the immunity. I don’t have the Resurrection Stone any more.’ 

Scorpius rounded on her. ‘What?’ 

‘It was in our lab down in town!’ She flinched. ‘I couldn’t get to it when we had to run. I have no idea where it is any more.’ 

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Albus growled. ‘Scorp, if you can get to the roof, do it. If you can cast from up there, then you can drop fire down on them and they can’t do a damned thing about it.’ 

Despite his roiling concern, Scorpius jogged to one of the pillars between the nave and the aisles. The masonry didn’t look the most solid, but that did mean he had foot-holes. There were gaps in the roof, and even if they were small they were so crumbled they could probably be broken. Either way, they didn’t have much of a choice, so he tucked his wand into his belt and began to clamber upward. 

His heart thudded in his throat as he scrambled. Not at the height - he suffered worse in Quidditch, though he trusted his broom more than his handholds - but the keen awareness of the danger at the door. Albus couldn’t be infected, but an Inferius could still rip him apart. And there had still been no sound since that explosion. 

_Rose. Rose, don_ _’t tell me you did something as stupid as I would._   
  
He was only halfway up before the door shattered with the impact of three Inferi charging it at once. Albus shouted below, and he almost slipped as he saw them surging inside. 

‘I thought they couldn’t do that!’ Selena was shrieking. 

‘They shouldn’t be able to!’ Lockett shouted, clambering over pews to get back. 

More were coming, though, four, five, clawing their way through the remains of the doors, staggering over the barricade, and it was Albus who stood his ground. ‘Then let’s see if we can do what we shouldn’t.’ The fire that lunged from his wand was hot enough to burn the first Inferius, and warm enough to soothe the freezing chill of terror in Scorpius’ bones. The null field was down, somehow. And he was stuck halfway up a pillar. 

He stuck his wand at the doorway, clinging on with one hand. ‘ _Incendio_!’ 

Then the air was filled with fire and magic and death. They could cast, but they were in a confined space, and even though the doorway funnelled the Inferi’s numbers there was still a hell of a lot of them. Lockett grabbed Selena and the two of them stood shoulder-to-shoulder, spells flashing out in unison and focusing on the same targets to bring them down. Scorpius could cherry-pick his targets from his elevated spot, and focused on the doorway, focused on stopping too many of them clawing their way in. 

Albus stood in the centre of the nave, tall and imposing and undaunted by the oncoming hordes. When he gave ground it was a with a firm, careful step, deliberate rather than panicked, to keep up the space between them as they came for him. And come for him they did. Snarling, hissing, lunging over the fallen debris and about the collapsed barricades, he was the first thing the Inferi saw. And he did his utmost to make sure that he was the last. 

A gust of flame from his wand ignited a whole row of pews to his left, and Scorpius wondered if he’d stumbled until the bench was levitated then _hurled_ at the oncoming Inferi. It took three of them out in one go, trapping them under the burning wood, and another flick of Albus’ wand fed the fire to blaze away in the door, brighter and fiercer. One burst through the ranks to lunge at him, unharmed, but he just ducked under the swipe of the arm, thudded the base of his palm into its ribcage, and it flew back. 

‘Find another exit!’ Albus bellowed, voice rolling over the raging fire. ‘Blow out a back window! Make your way to the roof! _Something_!’ 

That was probably his job, Scorpius mused, and looked up. He wasn’t confident enough in their levitation abilities to raise them that high. So his gaze landed on a rear window, once a huge alcove now completely boarded over, and he levelled his wand at it for a Blasting charm which blew out the entire barricade. ‘Professor! Selena! Go! 

Lockett and Selena didn’t need to be told twice, hurling fire at the Inferi pouring through the door before they turned and ran the length of the nave. Albus took a few steps back, then glanced up at Scorpius. ‘Get down, and go!’ 

‘I can cover you from up here!’ 

‘And then they’ll be below you and you’ll be trapped. _Go_!’ 

Every instinct of Scorpius’ told him to argue, except for the part of him - the very small part - that was good at following orders. Because when Albus gave orders, nobody disobeyed. 

Very much. 

A spell took the worst of the impact when he jumped from fifteen feet up. He rolled as he hit the ground and clattered back on his feet next to his friend. ‘Compromise,’ Scorpius said, lifting his wand alongside Albus'. ‘We run away together.’ 

‘It’s the Slytherin way.’ 

‘ _Can you stop your male bonding so we can flee for our lives_!’ Selena yelled from the back window. Just as the second of the double-doors was knocked down completely, and another three Inferi came pounding into the nave, like hungry, furious ghosts in the gloom. 

Scorpius’ heart lunged into his throat. ‘Oh, Merlin’s nipples -’ 

_You can_ _’t die now. Those can’t be your last words._

Then the entire front wall of the church was blasted _outward_. It like a huge hand had reached down to snatch a fistful of the building; masonry went flying back, light from the brightening sky of the passing storm flooded into the gloom, and the Inferi themselves were yanked like they’d been grabbed at the neck. The crunching sound of crushed stone was as if the spine of the church had been shattered, and all Albus and Scorpius could do was stand there, dumbstruck as the world in front of them changed in the blink of an eye. 

When the dust settled, there were no Inferi standing. Fallen bodies could be seen under the rubble, pinned and struggling or still and broken. But grime and debris sank around four figures silhouetted in the wreckage, one of them half the size of everyone else, and while Scorpius dimly recognised Harley, it was the girl favouring her right leg whom his eyes fell upon. 

‘Rose!’ She almost fell into his arms as he stumbled across the debris to join her, his embrace tight, protective - and entrapping, like she’d run off to do something else insane if he didn’t stop her. ‘You’re okay…’ 

Next to them, Harley looked up at Lisa and Matt. ‘This here’s what I mean,’ he grumbled. ‘I blow out half a wall and take down a dozen Inferi, and _she_ _’s_ the one he’s pleased to see.’ 

The others had reached them by the time Scorpius let Rose go, though he couldn’t tear his eyes off her. The mud, the grime, the soot, but she was still stood there, alive, _real_. Still, he had to flash a grin in the House Elf’s direction. ‘You could get a snog instead, Harley.’ 

Rose smirked. ‘I don’t think so.’ 

‘And the Granger lineage continues to do House Elves everywhere a service,’ Harley said wryly. 

Lockett was looking around the clearing beyond the church grounds, the tall watchtower, the tree-line, the still-smoking wreckage of the barn. ‘That can’t be all of them.’ 

‘Almost certainly not,’ said Rose. ‘Based on Brillig’s populace. Do you know of _any_ other survivors?’ 

‘I doubt it. They’ll have been hunted down over the last few days. But Downing’s out there, too…’ 

‘Not any more.’ Lisa’s voice was low and flat, and she flinched as all eyes turned on her. ‘He’s dead.’ 

Lockett nodded, impassive at the news. ‘That’ll be why then nullification ritual dropped. It wouldn’t be sustainable without him; you can’t keep those sorts of things up permanently.’ 

‘Then if there’s nobody else here and he’s taken care of,’ said Scorpius, ‘I vote we get the hell back to the boat before any more roaming packs of Inferi come to us. Even _if_ they’re going to be dumber with their controller gone.’ 

Harley nodded, and lifted a hand. ‘You might not want to travel far by a House Elf’s apparition,’ he said, ‘but getting us all down the hill and to the docks, I _can_ do.’ He snapped his fingers. 

Wizarding apparition made Scorpius’ guts twist inside out, like he was being spaghetti’d across space and time. His tutor had said something about that being how apparition worked, that he _was_ being magically strung-out, but he’d not liked the sound of that and hadn’t understood how this could happen without killing him anyway. A House Elf’s apparition was different, which was why it wasn’t a good idea for a wizard to use it when they were talking about tens of miles or further distances - the human body simply couldn’t take that kind of pure, magical, instantaneous transportation. 

But they could land on the docks near to where their boat was tethered in the blink of an eye. 

‘The storm’s breaking,’ Albus said. 

‘Lovely,’ said Scorpius. ‘The seas will be clear when we _get the fuck out of here_.’ 

Nobody argued, and as one they thudded down the wooden pier to where the boat waited. A cautious warning from Albus had them checking the deck before they set off, but it was clear of Inferi, and the doors had been sealed and looked like they hadn’t been interfered with. The boat had been left untouched, and the relief that flooded through Scorpius was almost palpable as Albus got to the quarterdeck and tugged on the ropes and wheel to get their magical transportation pulling away from Brillig Island, away from the storm, out onto the open seas. 

For a good while, all was silent. Then Rose went to check over Lockett and Harley for injuries she might be able to help with, and Lisa said she was going to keep watch on the island as they left, which Scorpius hoped was about paranoia rather than there being a genuine risk of Brillig doing anything, or the Inferi swimming after them. So despite himself Scorpius gave Selena a meaningful glance and, rolling her eyes, she walked off to leave him stood by the side of the ship with the exhausted-looking Matt. 

Scorpius shifted his feet. ‘You came after us.’ 

Matt looked cautious. ‘I didn’t do it for _you_.’ 

‘No. For the others, more.’ He couldn’t help but grimace. ‘Probably for Rose most of all, I know that.’ 

‘I don’t know about _most_.’ Matt’s gaze swept across the deck, to where Selena had joined the group of Rose, Harley, and Lockett. ‘Probably for you least.’ 

‘No more than I deserve. Still. I called you a coward. That was rotten of me. And undeserved.’ He was drumming his fingers on the railing by now, watching the increasingly blue ocean sweep past the ship as they emerged from the clouds of the storm, and only now was he feeling the chill from being rained on. Or, perhaps, it was the chill from Matt’s eyes upon him. ‘I’m sorry.’ 

‘I’d say apology accepted. Unless you’re going to get into a bad mood some other time and decide I’m the guy you take chunks out of when you’re angry.’ 

Scorpius winced. ‘That _is_ a thing I do. I’m working on it. Can’t make any promises. So how about, I was wrong, I did wrong by you, I’m sorry, and I’ll leave it at that?’ 

Something flickered in Matt’s gaze when he looked over, and it wasn’t anger or distrust. He looked guilty for a moment, inexplicably guilty, and didn’t answer for a long moment, as if he was chewing over words with some difficulty. That was when Scorpius realised all of the colour had gone out of him. ‘I…’ He swayed, and if Scorpius hadn’t grabbed his arm, he would have fallen. 

_Oh no._ Icy fingers clawed at Scorpius’ gut as he found himself propping up the taller man, a panic in his stomach and crawling up his throat he knew well, all-too well. ‘No, no - _Professor_!’ It was instinct as much as reason that had him wanting Lockett, because when this happened _she_ was the one who fixed things, she was the one who put things right, she was the one who knew how to deal with Phlegethon… 

Try as he might, he couldn’t stop Matt from doubling over, clutching at his gut, and retching blood over the deck and Scorpius’ boots. 

No. Not Phlegethon. Eridanos.

* * 

‘He doesn’t have a mark on him,’ said Lockett, looking around where everyone but Matt and Lisa were sat in the ship’s galley half an hour later. ‘But he’s had repeated contact with Inferi, and every inch of their skin, drop of their blood, is rife with Eridanos. I’m assuming he got into some fights.’ 

‘He took on four at once,’ said Rose, ashen-faced. She kept her hand on Scorpius’ and her grip was iron-tight. ‘When he got to me in the barn, he had to use his sword and the fights got… messy.’ 

‘All it would take is for him to swallow something, get something in his eye… it’s unlucky. Eridanos is at its most infectious when transferred directly to the blood-stream. Proximity alone, or physical contact alone, won’t always do it - which is why Lisa is uninfected. But with Eridanos you only need to get unlucky once,’ said Lockett. 

Albus leaned forwards. ‘Are we sure Lisa is uninfected?’ 

‘I would think she would have shown symptoms by now if Matt has,’ Lockett said. ‘But it’s best she stays in isolation in her room for another hour or so. By then, the magic trace of Eridanos on us, on the ship, will have died off without a human body for it to latch onto. The only place on this ship which will be exposed to the virus is where Matt’s resting, which is why I had him moved to the bottom deck. I will be enforcing as strict a policy on visitation and assistance as I can; Lisa’s not to go to that deck, and anyone who helps or visits me is subject to a one-hour decontamination period before leaving.’ 

‘This is all -’ Selena waved a hand. She had gone very still and very pale when they had taken Matt below decks, so pale Scorpius had worried for a heartbeat if she, too, was afflicted. ‘You can help him, right?’ 

Lockett hesitated. ‘I don’t have any of the cure on me. I don’t have the Resurrection Stone.’ 

‘Then we turn around, go back to Brillig, and _get_ it.’ 

‘Wait, wait, we’re going _back_?’ Harley sat up on his chair, which was propped up by cushions. ‘That place is _crawling_ with Inferi. We need to get in touch with Ms Granger and put in an order for an _extermination_ team. Not go running around a dark-creature-infested tropical island!’ 

‘We did it for _you._ ’ Selena looked at him flatly. That was what Scorpius would remember about her in these moments - she was not furious, she was not panicking. She was utterly, utterly still. 

‘That was for people. People are easier to find than a gemstone no bigger than a button!’ 

Lockett lifted a hand. ‘Harley’s right. The Task Force should be informed. They’ll have to wipe every living and unliving thing off the face of Brillig Island, but once they’ve done that, _then_ they can look for the Resurrection Stone. That’s the safest and quickest way of it being recovered.’ 

‘So.’ Selena lifted her chin half an inch. ‘We’re going to sit on this boat and watch Matt die.’ 

‘We know _more_ about Eridanos than we did about Phlegethon at Hogwarts; I can brew potions and take measures which will hold off the symptoms for as long as possible. I will do everything I can for him -’ 

‘Like you did for Tim Warwick?’ 

Scorpius flinched, and Lockett’s lips thinned to a single, angry line, but it was Rose who broke the moment, Rose who breathed, ‘The Chalice,’ so quietly that if they hadn’t all been on a knife-edge they wouldn’t have heard her. 

Albus’s head snapped around. ‘She’s right. We’re on its trail, and if the Task Force are going to deal with finding the Resurrection Stone, we need to push on.’ 

A muscle twitched in the corner of Selena’s jaw. ‘We go back to our _job_ -’ 

‘It can _cure_ him, Selena,’ said Rose, gaze locking on hers fervently. ‘If it can bring people back from the dead, it can _sure_ as hell cure Eridanos.’ 

‘You’re certain?’ 

Rose flinched. ‘It’s the best option we have.’ 

Albus looked at Lockett. ‘How long do we have?’ 

‘Normally?’ she grimaced. ‘Days. I can give him a week. Though I will need an array of potions equipment and ingredients. I _can_ get some of it shipped in from the Task Force.’ 

‘I’ll talk to Mum,’ said Scorpius. ‘She’s got friends and contacts in the local government, I’m _sure_ we can grease the right palms.’ 

‘That’s going to open us up to the Council realising we’re here,’ said Albus, and if anyone else but he had said this, Scorpius thought Selena might have ripped out his jugular with her teeth. ‘But we don’t have a choice. We make for Andros Island. We can be there by the end of the day.’ 

‘I’ll use what spells I can to slow the initial symptoms,’ said Lockett. ‘It’ll be best if I keep him unconscious; it’ll slow down his metabolism to stop Eridanos from working away in him quicker.’ 

‘Do you needhelp?’ asked Rose, voice tight. Lockett shook her head, and she got to her feet. She only let go of Scorpius’ hand once she was upright, as if he was the strength to help her stand. ‘Then I’m going to go through all of de Sablé’s records Matt was studying. Because we now _have_ to find the Chalice of Emrys. And soon.’ 

Selena also stood. ‘I’ll help you.’ 

Albus watched them leave, then sighed. ‘I’ll get us headed for Andros. No point in wasting time.’ 

‘And I,’ said Harley, hopping to his feet with a groan, ‘had best go set the Prof and me up on the bottom decks, if we’re going to be seeing to Doyle’s care.’ 

Lockett gave him a sidelong look. ‘You’re sticking with us, Harley?’ 

He gave her a smirk devoid of all humour. ‘I’ve been with you this far, Prof. Besides.’ He gestured to Scorpius and the door that led to the deck, and the others. ‘Look at all the trouble they got themselves into without me.’ 

Scorpius couldn’t help but snort as Harley left, but then it was just him and Lockett, and their old Potions teacher looked intently at the dining table once the door swung shut behind the House Elf. Neither one of them spoke for a long moment, and when Lockett did, her voice was hoarse. ‘I thought you were all dead.’ 

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, because he didn’t know what else to say when people said that. He felt like he meant it more than he had in the past, though, and absently he wondered if this was how the others had felt when they’d been reunited with the family members whose hurt they’d _cared_ about over their deception. ‘It kept us safe, for a time, or we thought it would…’ 

‘I failed Methuselah Jones, and he died.’ The words jolted through Scorpius, and when he looked at her, her head was still bowed, unable to see the look of astonishment on his face. Never before had he suspected that she felt a sense of responsibility for Methuselah, but now that he knew, it made all the painful sense in the world. ‘I failed Tim Warwick. Even if I cooked up the Phlegethon cure, even with all the work on Eridanos, when I thought that _all of you_ were dead, it was as if… my failure was complete.’ 

He stood so fast he made the chair rock back. ‘You didn’t fail Tim. You didn’t fail Methuselah. And even if we _had_ died, you didn’t fail us, Professor.’ He padded around the table to perch on it next to her - then hesitated, unsure of what he was supposed to do next. ‘This is about the Council. They’re the ones to blame. You? You’ve saved lives, _so many_ lives, with the work you do. If anyone, _anyone_ is a hero against the Council, against these plagues, it’s not us, running around like mad fools. It’s _you_ , cooking up cures and keeping people _alive_.’ 

‘Maybe.’ She lifted her head, and she looked so much more tired and old. ‘But what use is all that experience and all that work, if I can’t keep the people who matter to me all right?’ 

A hint of a reassuring smile tugged at the corner of Scorpius’ lips, and he reached out to place a hand on hers. ‘We’re fine, and we’re going to stay fine. After all. Do you really think I’d miss the wedding of _Caldwyn Brynmor_ , the famous Beater? I’ve wrangled an invite and I hear he’s shacking up with some random academic they slapped an Order of Merlin on…’ 

And she laughed, because it was his gift that even in the darkest of times he could make people laugh, and when he saw how smiling made her look brighter and younger, he knew he’d probably trade every inch of magic in him to keep that ability.

* * 

She’d been sat in her room for almost two hours now, and she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do next. Return to the ship. Have dinner. Face everyone else. But what was she supposed to _do next_? 

Every time Lisa looked down at her hands, she could see blood. There was none, of course. She’d washed her hands before she’d freed the House Elf. There had been a lot. Downing had twitched and writhed on her knife, but he’d weakened quickly and she’d had him pinned, felt the life ebb out of him, from the first jerk of pain to the last spasm before oblivion. He’d tried to speak, though her hand had been clamped to his mouth; she hadn’t wanted him to scream. Her hold had eased only as he’d weakened, and then the only sounds he managed to make, other than groans of pain, were bewildered, half-formed words of confusion. 

_What. Why. Why._   
  
_Why._   
  
She didn’t have an answer for him. Then it had been Harley, and action - meeting up with Rose and Matt, blowing away the wall, getting everyone out and safe and back to the ship. When Albus had told her to seal herself in her room to minimise further exposure, she’d been all-too happy to oblige him, even though she knew she was in no danger of infection. Cooperation was about more than keeping up appearances. She’d wanted the time. 

_Why._   
  
When there was a knock on the door, she stood fast enough to tip her chair over with a clatter. The knocking stopped, and then a voice, ‘Lisa? Are you all right?’ 

It was him. Of course it was him. She pushed her hair out of her eyes and fought for composure. ‘I’m fine. Come in.’ 

Albus had to duck to get through the door. His gaze met hers and she instantly dropped it, feeling his eyes running over her, concerned, assessing. ‘Matt’s on the bottom deck; Professor Lockett’s making arrangements to keep him comfortable and to make sure we don’t expose anyone. But it’s been two hours now and we’ve run some cleansing charms about the ship, too. You should be able to leave the cabin.’ 

‘Oh. Good.’ Her throat was dry. ‘How’s Matt?’ To her surprise, she found the concern was sincere. He’d fought hard on Brillig. Showed guts. Watched her back. He didn’t deserve to die like this. 

‘Professor Lockett’s going to keep an eye on him, do what she can to give him as much time as possible. The Task Force is going to cleanse Brillig completely, and then hopefully they’ll find the Resurrection Stone. But otherwise pushing on with the Chalice is his best chance.’ 

She didn’t look at him. ‘I assume Rose is taking over the research.’ 

‘With Selena, yes.’ 

‘I should help them.’ Lisa pushed off for the door. ‘I can translate the Arabic parts of anything from Ager Sanguinis, I’ve done some work with Matt -’ 

‘Good. Yes.’ But Albus didn’t move out of the way, and to get through the door would take squeezing closer than she’d like. ‘You came after us.’ 

She froze, turning to him only slowly, and her eyes remained on his shoulders, on the rise and fall of his chest, rather than fixing on his face, or the piercing greenness of his eyes. She could lie to his eyes; it was telling his eyes truths that hurt, because once he made a gap in her mask he, without trying, chipped away at it more. ‘I had to.’ 

‘You could have been killed. You could have been infected…’ His words started out critical, but worry crept in. 

‘You could have been _dead_. What was I supposed to do, stay on the ship and watch that fire blaze away and _wonder_? You would have been trapped in there, nobody would have rescued Rose, nobody would have stopped Downing -’ She flinched at the memory of his body twitching in her arms. She’d killed with her hands before, up close and personal. She’d killed people she hated less than Downing, for less reason. It was not his death, she knew, that had her memories warping away from her thoughts, like hands shied away from flame. It was what this choice meant. 

‘I’m grateful. You know I’m grateful.’ But she was doing such a foul job of controlling her feelings that he’d seen her quaver and stepped forward, and the tightness in her gut increased. With most men, with most people, it was a tension which screamed at her only to run away. With him, something in her bones told her to reach out for him, and that sensation was no less frightening. ‘But you’re not okay.’ 

‘I’m fine -’ 

‘You’re _shaking_.’ His hand reached for her arm only to stop just inches away, and though she couldn’t look directly at him, she could see his face creasing with concern. ‘You faced Downing again, you beat him; that’s allowed to be hard -’ 

‘I _killed_ him!’ This hadn’t been a secret but the burst of feeling which came with it felt like an admission, and her gaze met his at last. ‘He had his back to me and I _knew_ it would be dangerous to try him in a straight fight, I _know_ he’s - he was - good at hanging shield spells, that if I dropped magic on him it wouldn’t work, so I stepped up behind him and I had a knife and I _stabbed_ him before he even knew what was happening!’ The words tumbled past her lips, and between every one she could heard the thudding silence of the unspoken story, of how she’d talked with him, listened to him; how they’d agreed to murder everyone and leave together in spite of what Prometheus Thane wanted. 

‘I know he was damned dangerous. I know getting the drop on him was the safest way,’ said Albus, his voice low, urgent. ‘I know that magic against him would be risky, and I know taking him on physically might well have been the safest bet.’ His hand closed the distance, his touch on her arm light, but warm, so warm she feared that if he was any nearer she’d burn. ‘I also know that nobody’s going to weep over Downing. You did the right thing.’ 

‘I _stopped_ him for you, for all of you,’ she whispered, and the words hummed through her as she found them to be the truth. She hadn’t been trying to keep to Prometheus Thane’s plan, hadn’t been siding with one faction of the Council of Thorns against another. She’d stopped him because she didn’t want to see the Five dead. But she could have argued with him more. Could have presented Thane’s side further, could have intimidated or bullied him into letting her stick to the original plan. Then Downing could have left with all she knew about the Chalice, with Thane armed with the knowledge to take the hunt to San Salvador. She didn’t want that to happen. She didn’t want the Council on their tails. So there had only been two more choices, and she found Albus’ eyes glimmer all the more brightly in the gloomy cabin as she looked into them. ‘I _killed_ him for me.’ 

_For vengeance. And so he could never tell you my secret._   
  
His hand at her arm tightened, thumb stroking her shoulder, and she closed her eyes for a moment, let herself be soothed. ‘You don’t need my forgiveness,’ he murmured, his voice velvet comfort, ‘for killing such a hateful man after what he did to you.’ 

Elijah Downing was dead, and with him he’d taken the truth about her, and the knowledge of the Five’s movements. But not only that. He’d taken her loyalty to the Council of Thorns with him, the doubt that had crawled inside her and scrabbled at her insides since Kythos finally winning. Raskoph didn’t care for her. Even Thane didn’t care for her as much as he pretended; she knew this, she’d _known_ this, known it for years. These were people who would use her and discard her as soon as it was convenient, and out here, on the far side of the world, she couldn’t find a single good reason to owe them her loyalty. A single good reason to let the people around her suffer and die so the Council of Thorns could continue its work. 

She knew, gazing into Albus Potter’s eyes, that her secret wouldn’t last, that some day she would have to abandon it or the truth would come out. But in the meantime she could help them, and not betray them. In the meantime, they could find the Chalice, and save Matthias Doyle, who didn’t deserve to die. In the meantime… 

Her hand came up to his on her arm, fingertips tracing along the back of his knuckles, and her voice grated her throat when she murmured, ‘You should go.’ 

An altogether different frown tugged at his brow. ‘Why?’ 

‘Or this will happen,’ she breathed, and kissed him. 

He was taller on her, taller than most men, so she had to step in close and strain upward, and when his lips met hers she could feel a quaver of hesitation run through him. For one horrible moment she thought she’d misjudged this, that he was just being _nice_ , that he was Albus Potter and he was like this with everyone, and it was such a teenaged terror in and amongst the life and death issues that she almost laughed. But then he kissed her back - an awkward, inexpert kiss that was all the sweeter for the sincerity in its fumbling - and she felt no more shreds of amusement. 

Just the blinding terror of a moment of perfection she knew would burn in time. 


	45. The Darkness and the Light

Reality didn’t come rushing in for quite a while, and by the time it did, they were both entangled on her bed, clothes and minds rumpled, heads filled with the intoxicating sensation of one another. Lisa lounged on her back, his forearm her pillow. He couldn’t take his gaze off her, eyes dragging across every inch of her face, her hair, her body. He’d seen her strong and he’d seen her weak, but he didn’t think he’d ever seen her relaxed, even if there was the slightest knotting at her brow. 

‘You okay?’ 

She sighed, and the guarded mask drifted from her face. He felt his heart swell as their eyes met. Not through the childish surge he got in his gut when she looked at him, but for the fact that he _could_ dismiss her frowns, wipe away her troubles. If only for a time. Her hand came up to brush against his cheek, and the corner of her lips twisted. ‘I am. This _was_ my idea, after all.’ 

Albus couldn’t fight the bashful grin. ‘I thought it was a good idea.’ 

‘I thought I’d got the wrong idea when you hesitated. I was wondering if I needed to hurl myself in the ocean.’ 

The smile went more sheepish. ‘No, no. I just - I’m not that good with girls.’ She arched an eyebrow, and he gave a firm nod. ‘I’m not kidding. I’m Harry Potter’s son; you’d be amazed how many people want my time and attention because of that, rather than because of me.’ 

Her frown returned, thoughtful but sympathetic, and it was her turn for her eyes to roam across him. ‘Then they’re missing out. You’ve really avoided _all_ girls?’ 

Albus shook his head. ‘There were a few formative… disasters. I had a girlfriend in my fourth year; she was a year older, gorgeous, asked me if I wanted to go to Hogsmeade with her on Valentine’s Day.’ 

‘Harlot.’ Lisa’s voice was dry enough to soak up the ocean. 

He grinned. ‘I’m getting to the point. The date was fine. But then she spent the next month doing a limpet impression on my arm and practically screaming to the world that she was going out with Harry Potter’s son. That was _less_ fine. We didn’t have much in common; she was so eager to please I’m not sure an honest word came out of her mouth.’ 

‘So what happened?’ 

‘James took me to one side, just before the Easter holidays. Girls did this, he said. Boys, too, in different ways - er, usually. To him, to me, they’d do it to Lily, no doubt. He said it’s not that they’re mean, or selfish, or that they don’t like me. Just that they’re too blinded by the _idea_ of who we are to see the real us.’ Albus couldn’t help but grimace. ‘I know, poor us, right?’’ 

‘Stop that.’ Her hand caught his, their fingers intertwining. ‘You’d tell me off if I tried dismissing anything that happened to me.’ 

‘Yes, but you’ve had actually _bad_ things happen to you. I’m complaining that girls chased me too much.’ 

‘You’re saying you had to cut yourself off from people because you weren’t sure if you could trust them. You weren’t sure if they’d hurt you or use you.’ Her eyes met his, the dark brown softening. ‘That’s not easy.’ 

His bashful expression returned. ‘Well, if you’re going to put it like that.’ He sighed. ‘James always copes with it better. Charms girls so they’re deflected or dismissed, or they can’t help but adore _him_ , too. But he did me right, then, told me to end it cleanly, to never take a risk with a girl I don’t know.’ He decided to not respond to the guilty flicker of her face. _Knowing_ wasn’t about facts or actions. It was about being sure they saw him for who he was, and he knew she did. ‘So I broke up with her before the train ride home. She apparently spent the entire trip crying in her compartment with her friends.’ 

‘And that was that?’ 

He shrugged. ‘Pretty much. She and I steered clear of each other. And Scorp figured out what was going on, then, and started to run interference. Played up so the girls paid attention to him instead of me - and he could handle it, handle them. Or he drove them off. Which is probably a bit why he wound up chasing anything in a skirt. It was habit-forming, but it worked. Girls learnt to not bother. Or to bother with Scorpius instead.’ 

‘It’s strange,’ Lisa said, watching him, ‘how someone as open as you is close to so few people. I see you and Scorpius. And you and Rose. But you’ve known Selena and Matt for years, and you still… hold back?’ 

She was more astute than he’d given her credit for. ‘I’ve never known Matt very well. And Selena - before this year I thought she was just an airhead. _Everyone_ thought she was just an airhead; even her. And Rose and I are still figuring things out. We used to be close, but weren’t for years until Phlegethon.’ But that wasn’t really the point. ‘It’s not been easy. People make assumptions about who I am, who I’m going to be, rather than finding out for themselves. It’s why you, I mean…’ 

He stumbled over his words, and she gave one of her small smiles. ‘I think you under-estimate how you come across.’ 

‘Maybe. But there are only so many people whose good opinion I _really_ care about.’ Albus’ throat tightened as he looked down at her. ‘Like, well. This. What… _is_ this? Where’s this going?’ 

He’d expected several reactions. He’d feared even more. But he’d not _truly_ anticipated the reaction he got, which was for her to burst out laughing. ‘I’m sorry!’ she said between guffaws, pulling back. ‘I don’t - that’s not what…’ 

Colour rushed to his cheeks as he sat up. ‘You were talking about hurling yourself into the ocean; did you have a plan of action on that I could borrow…’ 

She caught his hand, urgency flashing into her eyes. ‘I’m sorry. But I’ve spent the last weeks, months, _years_ , worrying about life or death things. I can’t remember the last time I stopped and fussed about something…’ 

‘Irrelevant?’ 

‘Personal.’ Her gaze dropped. ‘I’m a complicated mess, Albus. And this is not exactly the time to make plans…’ 

‘I’m happy to take this a day at a time,’ he said. ‘All I need to know is if you’ll want to kiss me tomorrow.’ 

Now _she_ flushed, and the childish surge rose in him again. She was so unflappable that it was gratifying to make her flap. ‘Yes,’ she said, awkward and quick but sincere, and he smothered a smile at how _difficult_ it was to talk about something so simple in simple terms. ‘But I’m not - you see Rose and Scorpius and he’s always happy to drape himself over her and that may be fine for them but - I’m not saying keeping this _secret_ -’ 

‘But it doesn’t have to be anyone else’s business. I get it. I agree. And we can worry about what’s next… next. Okay?’ She smiled again, a small, relieved smile that reached her eyes and made them brighter in a way he hadn’t seen before. The surge in his heart at _that_ was altogether less childish, but his gaze went to the window. ‘We’re coming up on Andros Island. I better get us to the pier.’ 

Her nose wrinkled. ‘Is it going to be a problem if I stay on the ship? It’s kind of Scorpius’ mother to put us up…’ 

‘But it’s a little awkward. Yeah. I’m not sure we’ll be staying, she’s just the only person who can help us get the equipment the professor needs.’ He got to his feet. ‘I think we all want to be close to hand.’ 

Lisa nodded, and also stood. ‘I’ll be more use staying here and getting some translating done for Selena and Rose.’ 

Then they were both standing there in the middle of her cabin, with the sheets rumpled by their tumble onto the bed, and it was like everything was normal again except it _wasn_ _’t_. Albus jerked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘Right. So. I’ll be going.’ 

‘Right.’ She nodded again and he turned to go. 

_Oh, to hell with it._   
  
By the time he wheeled back around to face her, she’d already closed the distance, and fell into his arms for another, far-less hesitant kiss. His hands buried themselves in her hair, but she needed little encouragement to stay close. This was no soft, lingering kiss like his fumbles at school - no delicacy, no coaxing, or not from her, anyway. Just fire, raw determination in an embrace. 

When she pulled back, her eyes were blazing, hand at his jaw, and she took a slow, shuddering breath. ‘Al. A lot’s going to happen from here. But this is real. You know that?’ 

_As if you could ever be like those other girls._ His answer was another kiss, this one softer, reassuring. ‘This is real.’ He couldn’t help but grin. ‘Okay, I’m really going this time.’ 

Reluctant, she let him go. Reluctant, he left, because he didn’t trust Scorpius’ handling of the magical ship, and so he made his way out of the cabin and up on deck. Andros Island could be seen on the horizon, closer with every heartbeat, the lights of the shore competing with the lights of the stars. Though as he looked up, he knew the sky had no rival, and he would swear blind the moon and all the constellations were brighter tonight than they’d ever been.

* * 

Astoria looked at the list with a frown. ‘I can make some Floo calls tomorrow and have something with you by lunchtime,’ she told Scorpius. ‘This all seems rather serious, though.’ 

He rested his elbows on the kitchen counter. ‘It is, Mum. It’s _been_ serious all along.’ _Which you would know if you_ _’d asked me, or read properly about_ \- But he cut the treacherous thought short with a flinch. ‘I need you to be as discreet as you can. The cat’s probably out the bag on our location. The Council of Thorns will figure it out, after today. But the longer they’re off our tail, the better.’ 

‘I understand. You did warn me when you came here. Are you _sure_ the others don’t want to come up from the ship? I can see about putting on some dinner, or tea…’ 

‘You’ve been great, Mum, to put us up. But people want to be near Matt in case… I don’t know. In case we can do something.’ Scorpius tensed. ‘And, well, we didn’t really say this before. But you read about Kythos. What the Council of Thorns have done to people who shelter us.’ 

He saw her expression flicker. ‘They burnt down the village where you never stayed. If they get it in their heads to attack your boat, the house is probably royally buggered.’ 

‘Yes, but I don’t want to bring them to your _door_.’ He scowled. ‘I’m sorry, Mum - I didn’t think we were going to reveal ourselves, I thought we could stay _secret_ out here, and maybe we have. I didn’t want to put you in danger.’ 

‘Scorpius, I’m your _mother_ , if I can’t do this for you…’ She straightened, gaze pained. ‘And today you just - you _all_ went off and got into such serious danger? Is it always like that?’ 

‘Pretty much.’ 

‘I never knew. That is - I knew. But I didn’t understand it.’ Then her eyes dropped to the list, and her poise was back, charming and perfect. ‘I’ll make some calls and get the potions equipment. I have some friends in the business out here.’ When she looked up, she was smiling the soft, reassuring smile he remembered. Only it didn’t sink into his bones and put the world to rights like it was supposed to. ‘You should get back to the ship, back to your friend.’ 

Scorpius watched her for a moment, then nodded and went to embrace her. ‘Yeah. Good night, Mum.’ 

Rose was waiting for him when he stepped out the front door, sat at the edge of one of the stone flowerpots that flanked the patio, eyes on the night sky. ‘The stars being different is kind of weird,’ she said as he emerged. ‘I mean, they were different in Syria, but they’re _more_ different here.’ 

‘Not all of them.’ He sauntered over and pointed to the west. ‘You can still see Orion there. You can see it pretty much all over the world, actually. I could be thousands of miles away from someone, but so long as it’s night, we could both look up and see the same constellation. It’s why I like Orion.’ 

‘I thought he was supposed to be your mortal enemy,’ she mused, but her lips were curling, and her eyes had gone from the sky to him. 

His expression softened. ‘You didn’t have to wait out here, you know.’ 

‘I wanted to give you the chance to spend some time with your Mum.’ 

‘We’ve been here three, four days. We talk. It’s nice, you know? To tell her a lot of what happened…’ His brow pinched. ‘But not everything. Is that normal?’ 

Rose sighed. ‘Oh, boy, yeah.’ But she gave him another lingering look, and he was going to ask before she grabbed his hand and they started for the steps down to the pier. ‘Are you okay?’ 

‘Me? _You_ _’re_ the one who…’ Scorpius’ voice trailed off. ‘Ran off and did the kind of idiot thing that’s usually reserved for me.’ 

She looked abashed. ‘I knew you’d argue and we didn’t have time. Someone had to do something about those Inferi.’ 

‘Yes, but you could have _died_. And then - and then where would I be?’ It sounded ridiculous and selfish, but he couldn’t find another way to put it. 

‘Have you considered you do that to me _all the time_?’ 

‘Yes, but you’re smarter than me!’ 

Rose blinked. ‘I don’t follow.’ 

They were halfway down to the pier by now so he stopped, turning to her on the steps. ‘You ran off and then I still had to be all sensible and spell-casting and problem solving! Even though I was going out of my mind with worry! But I _know_ , when I do things like fighting that troll, or flying distraction on the golem-dragon, that you’re _smart_ and can figure out what to do even if I’m running off being a bloody idiot!’ 

‘That’s sweet. You do realise I’m still going nuts with worry, too?’ She grabbed his arm, her hold suddenly urgent. ‘You do these _mad_ things and I can’t stop you and I usually can’t even _help_ you. I didn’t do what I did today as some sort of payback, but _yes_ , that is what it feels like when you decide to be a stupid hero without any warning!’ 

Scorpius’ heart sank. ‘I’m sorry. You know I usually leave you hanging because I trust you to do the right thing?’ 

‘And I trusted you to do the right thing.’ But she looked away, chewing on her lower lip for a moment. ‘…I saw something in Ager Sanguinis.’ 

_Plummeting. Wind rushing past him, hands flailing -_   
  
He blinked himself back to reality. ‘Something?’ 

‘Something that never happened. What _would_ have happened, I guess, if you’d died instead of Methuselah.’ She still didn’t look at him. ‘Albus and I were at home, and he was going away for a while, and we were arguing because… because we were both left alone and I didn’t want _him_ to go, too. And I saw what happened to me; I was just _broken_ and I’ve tried to not think about it. Except it could happen, couldn’t it? We’re risking our lives every day, and it just takes the wrong step, the wrong misjudgement, and then we’ll be digging _graves_ …’ 

Scorpius grabbed her hand. ‘You are not going to dig my grave. I promise you. _Rose_ …’ 

‘And I don’t know what I’d do without you!’ She threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his jacket, and he clung to her like a life-line. Guilt swarmed across him, because he’d not told her what _he_ _’d_ seen and it sounded like the wrong thing to say. So all he could do was wrap his arms around her and say something meaningless and reassuring, but before he could open his mouth, she was mumbling something else. 

‘Matt kissed me.’ 

The words hit him like Albus had punched him in the face. He jerked back. ‘What?’ 

She let him go, though her hands were still outstretched like she would pull him back given half a chance, like she was empty and incomplete out of his embrace. Her eyes shone as she made herself look at him. ‘Yesterday. When I went after him. He was… upset, he was ranting. And he said that he loved me, then he kissed me.’ 

His instincts told him to run. To turn his back on her and just _go_ \- up the stairs, or back to the ship, it didn’t matter which. Just run, go as far as he could, bury his head in the sand somewhere and curse himself for being a fool, for getting hurt just like - 

Scorpius’ eyes slammed shut as realisation cracked its way through the panicked haze. _She is not Miranda._ He gave a shaky exhale. ‘Okay. There’s only one question I should be asking here, isn’t there. What did _you_ do?’ 

‘I didn’t kiss him back!’ Rose burst, as if she’d realised she’d not made that clear. ‘And I said I was sorry if I’d given him mixed signals, but - but I’m with _you_. And that’s not going to change.’ 

He made himself open his eyes again, but his heart was thudding in his chest, and he couldn’t look at her. ‘That’s why you weren’t angry with me when you got back to the cabin.’ His gut twisted as he remembered last night, and _now_ he looked at her. ‘That’s why -’ 

She flew across the distance at him. ‘Oh, no, no, don’t think -’ 

He caught her wrists, just enough to keep her at arm’s length, and despite the roiling paranoia and blossoming anger in his gut, forced himself to not tighten his grip. ‘You said -’ 

‘You know what I felt when Matt kissed me?’ He didn’t know, nor did he _want_ to know, but she was a storm of terrified determination and he couldn’t stop her. ‘I felt cold, sick, and _guilty_ , even though I did not, did _not_ kiss him back, and I swear if I could teach you Legilimency I would let you read every _inch_ of my mind. But I came back and I kissed _you_ , and it was everything. Everything he wasn’t, everything… everything I need.’ She pulled back, hands out of his grasp, and wrapped her arms around herself like a shield against his oncoming anger. ‘I didn’t tell you I love you to lie to you. I told you I love you because someone else poured his heart out to me and it didn’t meananything, _anything_ , like you so much as _looking_ at me means.’ 

Something released in his chest, like her words had found the latch on his pain so she could draw it out of him, but still he hesitated. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ 

‘I thought it would only hurt everyone.’ 

Scorpius sighed. ‘And now I can’t exactly go and _punch_ him, can I.’ 

Rose looked away. ‘…no.’ 

Of course she was tense and worried. _He_ was tense and worried, even if he didn’t like Matt all that much - and liked him even less now. But Matt and Rose had been a couple, and then they’d been friends, and today he’d saved her from Inferi. It was possibly for her sake that he’d got infected at all. 

Scorpius looked down to the boat, dark save the pinpricks of light from the portholes, then up to his mother’s house, a shining beacon of light up on the shore. Then there was them, away from it all or lost in the middle; he wasn’t sure. ‘I suppose times like this remind me of things which are important,’ he said as a thought struck him, and he moved a step down so they were, for once, at eye-level. 

She remained tense, arms still around herself, but he suspected she’d figured it out, and with a shaking breath she played the part. ‘Like what?’ 

The memory of them on the steps up from Hagrid’s Hut towards Hogwarts, away from the Forbidden Forest where they’d just tangled with Acromantulas and Prometheus Thane, was enough to give him a slow, pleased smile. But he was less impetuous than he’d been that night almost eight months ago when he said, ‘Like this,’ and kissed her. Like she’d hesitated at their first kiss, she hesitated now. But he knew it was through guilt and apprehension, so he slid his arms around her, pulled her closer, until finally she melted into the embrace, a low whimper at the back of her throat, and as she relaxed he could feel her shaking. 

When he pulled back, he stayed close and brushed his nose against hers. ‘We’ll get through this. We’ll find the Chalice. Matt will be okay so I _can_ punch him in the face. Okay?’ 

‘I’m sorry,’ she breathed, eyes closed tight. ‘I didn’t want to hurt you -’ 

‘You didn’t. You did nothing wrong.’ He kissed the tip of her nose and smiled when she finally looked at him. ‘We should get back to the ship. But I’ll be more careful from here on. I promise. So long as you try to not scare the hell out of me again?’ 

Finally she smiled, and the tension in his gut that had been there since she’d grabbed the Invisibility Cloak and bolted that afternoon began to fade. ‘Deal.’

* * 

‘He’s very bright,’ said Selena, the array of papers and journals spread out across the floor of her cabin. ‘But he’s not very organised.’ 

‘No,’ sighed Rose. ‘I guarantee it’ll make sense to him. But he’s got a good memory, so he remembers where he kept things, what these random notes refer to, where he was up to… honestly, it used to drive me mad.’ 

‘We’ll have to divvy up the material de Sablé gave us and go through it ourselves.’ 

‘I don’t suppose he said anything to you about his progress?’ Rose grabbed one of the stacks of letters and curled up in a spot on the deck where the bright morning sun poked through the porthole. ‘He and I haven’t really… talked much. Lately.’ 

She’d expected an admonishment from Selena, a wry or cutting comment. Instead she just got a noncommittal noise and a shrug, then, a moment later, ‘I’ll go through the Book for more about San Salvador’s history, see if we get any clues that way.’ 

Rose was happy to leave it at that. She had a patch of sunlight, some reading to do, and nothing but peace, quiet, and gut-numbing terror to help her get on with it. It was ideal circumstances for research, really, barring the life-or-death stakes at hand. And it meant she didn’t have to address the guilt rumbling through her bones. Not just the guilt that had plagued her with Matt for the last year, but the knowledge that they’d left this, the single most important part of their mission, in the hands of only one person. 

Matt preferred it that way, she knew. He’d have dived into the research and engrossed himself with the history, with the puzzle. Working with someone meant having to explain himself, or meant there were facts he wouldn’t see for himself. It was his preference, as much as their general isolation, which had caused this state of affairs. But it meant their hunt for the Chalice was delayed while she and Selena now caught up. 

‘Guanahani,’ said Selena after a half-hour’s silence. ‘The native name for San Salvador. You know, maybe we should find some native records on the island; everything we’ve been reading’s been very European-centric and even if Europeans put the Chalice out here, it’s pretty closed-minded of us to only tackle things from this way. Matt said -’ If Rose had known her less well, she wouldn’t have spotted the flinch. ‘- That the Muslim records on the Crusades gave him a lot more useful information than just reading the European Crusader ones.’ 

‘We can see about getting some accessed by the Book.’ Rose frowned at her letters. ‘The way they speak about the Chalice - or write about it - is a bit weird. Have you noticed that?’ 

Selena arched an eyebrow. ‘They’re Templar-wizards who lived hundreds of years ago. You’ll have to be a bit more specific on “weird”.’ 

‘They thought the Chalice was a holy relic, right? Divine in nature? Basically the real Grail? But these letters include this knight’s ruminations on how maybe going to find the Chalice _isn_ _’t_ the right thing to do. That maybe it should be better left lost.’ 

‘De Sablé did say something like that.’ 

‘He’s talking about how its powers bridge the worlds of the living and the dead,’ said Rose, rifling through the papers. ‘That it can affect and heal not just flesh and blood, but the spirit, too, which makes sense if it can bring back the newly-deceased and also affect magical afflictions. He goes on to question if that kind of power isn’t the purview only of God - if mortals _should_ have that kind of power. And if it does reach to the realm of the dead, then is it to Heaven or is it to Hell?’ 

Selena slammed the Book shut. ‘I remind you: centuries-old Templar wizards. Do we really give a damn if they were agonising about how to use something which is _perfectly_ easily explained as a magical artifact? And besides, we’ve _seen_ the realm of the dead. It wasn’t either.’ 

‘I think what we saw can’t be described as anything more sophisticated than the _lobby_ of the realm of the dead.’ Rose grimaced. She hadn’t yet spoken of her encounter with Fred - not to Scorpius or Albus, and certainly not her parents. They had enough on their plates without upsetting her father any more. And if anyone was going to tell Uncle George, she wanted it to be her, face-to-face. 

‘Best give up the bloody hunt, then, stupid old Templars think it might be dangerous!’ 

Rose glared. ‘That’s _not_ what I’m saying. I think it’s _odd_ that the older records spoke of the Chalice as being this undoubtedly good and holy thing, but now they’re wondering if it’s not supposed to be lost, if it’s not _dangerous_. We should be careful, that’s all.’ 

‘Oh, well. I was planning on skipping wildly into the abyss, but if the letters say it might be dangerous -’ 

That was the merciful moment when Lisa stuck her head around the door. She wore the expression of someone who’d heard the raised voices and interrupted anyway. ‘I see you’re hard at work.’ Somehow she made this sound not sarcastic. 

‘ _Very_.’ Selena opened the Book again. 

‘Good. Only - I should have said this sooner, but with one thing or another it slipped my mind,’ Lisa said. ‘Right before everything went wrong on Brillig, Matt was reading the records. I don’t know where, but he found _something_ which seemed to agitate him. All he mentioned was a name: Watlings?’ 

Rose and Selena exchanged glances. ‘I’ve not seen any mention of someone called Watlings in here,’ said Rose. 

‘I don’t know.’ Lisa shrugged. ‘He seemed to think it was important. Thought I’d let you know.’ 

Rose twisted a lock of hair around a finger, pondering as Lisa shut the door behind her. ‘Unfortunately, knowing Matt, he might have got agitated over something which was historically fascinating but not that relevant to the topic at hand.’ 

Selena wasn’t listening. ‘“One thing or another,”‘ she mocked. ‘Meaning, she managed to resurface from sticking her tongue down Albus’ throat long enough to tell us.’ 

‘ _What_?’ Rose almost threw her letters out the window. ‘She - _what_?’ 

‘Albus went to her room after the quarantine was lifted and emerged grinning like an idiot -’ 

‘Conclusive evidence _indeed_.’ 

‘One: Albus doesn’t grin like that usually.’ Selena started counting off on her fingers. ‘Two: Matt’s dying. You bet like _hell_ Albus doesn’t grin like _that_ for no good reason. Three: He hasn’t _stopped_ grinning and looking at her like a dopey fool. Four: He was looking _decidedly_ rumpled. Five: She’s been smiling. Tiny, tiny smiles. But I see them.’ 

Rose frowned. ‘You’re scary when you watch people.’ 

‘It’s what I do. Except, the times when she’s not smiling, she’s looks like she wants to vomit.’ Selena pursed her lips. ‘I’m not sure what that means yet. It’s hard to tell. There’s a lot of crazy to sift through. Maybe it’s her black heart starting to beat.’ 

Rose decided it would be judicious to not answer. Selena was bearing all the hallmarks of being about to go on a rant, and they had work to do. So she gave a non-committal mumble and returned to the letters of Pedro de Valverde, Knight Templar and wizard. She’d started at the beginning, even if the letters started before the expedition. It meant a lot of reading, but they had to have missed something along the way, some clue that had led this expedition to the resting place of the Chalice of Emrys. And the expedition’s eventual fate. Assuming they _had_ found it, of course, and hadn’t simply been incorrect and some other fate had befallen them. But they couldn’t even _find_ the cave and hermitage on San Salvador described in the letter. 

She read for an hour, then decided the cabin was getting too stifling, and sitting with Selena Rourke in silence for so long was unnerving. She was used to spending time with the other girl over tea and gossip and commentary on what was wrong with her life. Serious studiousness punctuated by bitchy commentary wasn’t that good for her thought process, so she said she was going to get some fresh air and got no more than a grunt as she left the cabin. 

She meant to go on deck. But her feet had a different idea, and before she knew it she was taking the stairs _down_ , not up. The door to the bottom deck had been closed and sealed, and so she had to tap on the boards in the right rhythm with her wand before it clicked open. Professor Lockett took the security of the quarantine seriously, and had enchanted the area rather than trusting them to follow directions. One hour’s isolation and decontamination would be necessary before that door would let her out. 

It would let her get some reading done in private. But she wasn’t here to work. 

She passed through the quarantine-airlock room and down the corridors until she reached the final chamber, the cabin that had once been for storage and now was both a potions laboratory and a medical ward. Harley was nowhere in sight, but Lockett stood at the far wall, where she’d set up all of the Potions equipment that had arrived shortly after breakfast. For the moment she either hadn’t noticed Rose or was too busy to acknowledge her, so she took a moment to stand in the dusty belly of the ship, and looked at the bed. It was the same size as all the beds on the ship. Large enough for two, but it might as well have been large enough for _four_ , so small did Matt look, a pale and still shape under the blankets. 

‘I didn’t think I’d be here again.’ She spoke without meaning to, her voice low and hoarse. 

Lockett set down the beaker in her hand, so slow and deliberate she had to have known she was there all along. Her lips were a tight line as she turned. ‘It’s not usually like this. Usually Eridanos is more painful and active. Usually we’re distributing the cure. But I’ve given him elixirs to slow his metabolism, put him in a nearly-hibernating state so the virus works more slowly at his body -’ She hesitated. ‘So, yes, it’s a little bit _d_ _éjà vu_ all over again.’ 

It was just as well they were at sea, Rose thought. The waves rushing against the ship’s hull meant there was always sound, so she could stand and stare at Matthias Doyle’s unconscious form and not feel like the silence was a void that would consume her whole if she succumbed to it. She didn’t know how long she stood there - certainly long enough for Lockett to turn back to her work - and her voice creaked even more when she spoke again. ‘Is he all right?’ 

‘He’s dying,’ said Lockett. Her diplomatic skills had not improved since Hogwarts, though Rose could hear the pained edge there. ‘But he’s asleep. He’s not aware of it, of anything. He’s not in pain.’ 

Mute, Rose nodded, and feet dragged her to the side of the bed. She sank onto a stool, hands twisting in her lap as she watched his still, pale body. The next breath she drew was slow, raking. ‘Could you give us a minute?’ 

‘He’s not aware of _anything_ ,’ Lockett repeated. 

‘I know.’ _That_ _’s for the best._   
  
Lockett didn’t answer, her footsteps padding for the door - but she hesitated. ‘You may need to find the Chalice,’ she said, and Rose couldn’t look at her because she could hear the quaver in her voice, and if she saw their old teacher - usually so stoic, so detached from it all - crying, then she’d lose what wits she had. ‘But I _promise_ you that I will give you all the time you need. I will keep him alive if it takes every ounce of strength in me. He will _not_ die on us. I will not allow it. I will not, _will not_ lose another student. I promise you.’ 

Rose had to slam her eyes shut against the surging in her chest. ‘I know, Professor,’ she whispered. ‘And I trust you.’ 

Lockett made a low noise in response which sounded like she wasn’t too thrilled with being trusted - that meant she had to follow through, after all - but she didn’t say anything else, and left. Leaving Rose without her words, Matt lying still, and the rushing of the waves. 

His hair was plastered against his face by sweat, and, fingertips trembling, she reached out to brush it back. ‘You should get it cut,’ she whispered. ‘You always look a bloody state -’ But she didn’t get any further before her words choked her and, clutching fistfuls of the blankets, she burst into tears. 

‘You can’t _die_ ,’ she warbled. ‘Not now! Not like this! Not after coming to _rescue_ me! You can’t die for _me_ , Matty!’ Of course he didn’t answer, and she crumpled onto the bed, face buried against his chest as she fought to get her breath back. Neither it nor her wits would let themselves be gathered yet, though, and words tumbled past her lips before she could stop them, words she wasn’t prepared to say to _herself_ , let alone to him. 

‘You should at least die for someone better, die for someone who cares for you like you care for them - and I do, I do care for you, but you’re my _friend_ , and I wish I’d made _that_ clearer the other night. I kept feeling guilty because I didn’t tell you that I can’t love you, because I love Scorpius. You said you’d wait for me and I should have told you more clearly _not_ to, or you’ll be waiting your whole life, and you should be living _your_ life. You can’t throw it away for me. You shouldn’t throw it away at all, but if you did, you should at least throw it away for someone who loves you just as much.’ 

Her next breath was shuddering, choking, but with it spilt the words she’d spent a long time trying to ignore. ‘I did love you,’ Rose gasped. ‘Before, when we were together, I think, if kids like we were can even know what love is. But I didn’t understand it, and it meant that every time we bickered - and we argued so much, so _often_ , we hadn’t learnt how to be _together_ \- it hurt so much and I didn’t know how to handle it. So I ended it. So I ran. So I got with Hector because he _couldn_ _’t_ hurt me.’ She bit her lip against the next surge of truths, but they came anyway. ‘And maybe, yes, maybe if Phlegethon hadn’t happened - no, but then I wouldn’t have done the growing up _I_ needed to do… maybe if Scorpius hadn’t come along, it would have been you. Maybe you’d have been right, that we’d have gone our separate ways and grown up a bit and then grown back together.’ 

It was not peace that stole over her and allowed her to sit up, to straighten the blankets, to regain some measure of composure. She didn’t feel better for the admission. Guilt and pain and fear still swarmed in her, as much her masters as ever. But they had relinquished control, if only for the moment, and left a coldness in her wake which let her leave. Though not before, self-conscious, as if she was still a teenager giving out confusing messages instead of a young woman scared and grieving, she leaned down and kissed Matt on the forehead. 

‘Get better,’ she murmured, even though he couldn’t hear her. ‘Get better, and live.’ 


	46. The Witching Time

‘Hogwarts is doing fine,’ said Harley, back to the ship’s railing. ‘Weren’t much _damage_ done, just by the time the kids were all recovered from Phlegethon, no point in getting the school year started. The messing with the wards and lack of maintenance were sorted out in a month. So there was nothing to _do_ there.’ He had been stubborn about the heat before eventually abandoning his newly-cleaned jacket and waistcoat, and now stood with a mug of black coffee, white shirt slashed by his red suspenders, sleeves rolled up in the sun. Half Scorpius’ height, he cut almost a comical figure, but he’d learnt long ago to respect the House Elf. 

‘So you worked with the Professor. That sounds awfully pro-wizard of you.’ 

Harley gave him a look. ‘I get paid. And Dark Wizards usually aren’t all that forgiving about my kind. Acosta’s enforcing old rule in Brazil. I don’t reckon an old cohort of _Grindelwald_ _’s_ is going to be that fond of my way of life. This war’s for everyone.’ 

‘War.’ Scorpius rested his hands on the railing and frowned up the cliffs to where his mother’s house sat. ‘I didn’t think of it as a war.’ 

‘Wizarding wars aren’t armies lining up. They’re daggers in the dark, scraps down Diagon Alley. Infiltrations and ideologies. That sort of bollocks.’ Harley sipped his coffee. ‘Saw it all over the world with the task force. Council’s been finding isolated pockets of wizards and trying to _kill_ them. Just to show they can.’ 

‘I don’t know if the Chalice is going to fix anything about the war. Eridanos is only a piece of the puzzle.’ 

‘They’ll make more, horrible pieces, won’t they, if they get their mitts on it. And it gives them a bloody nose. I’m all in favour of giving wizards like them bloody noses. It’s good work.’ Harley shifted his feet. ‘Even if there’s a high price. You should know, word of you being _dead_ , it… really weighed on the Prof.’ 

‘I hadn’t even thought of her in that. I should have done.’ 

‘She took Jones’ death hard, like she took Warwick’s. People in her care dying. And you lot then… getting yourselves killed far away from her. We took this job to Brillig to get away. To not think about it. I probably shouldn’t be saying this.’ He scratched his nose. ‘But she won’t. She won’t let on what you little buggers mean to her.’ 

Scorpius nodded, not knowing what to say, and they stood in awkward silence until there was a gust of greenish smoke from the chimney in his mother’s house. ‘Floo. That might be the book delivery. Local sources, research…’ 

‘Oh - go pick it up.’ Harley waved a hand, looking relieved at the interruption. ‘It’ll help the research.’ 

Scorpius nodded and sprung for the gangplank, along the path, up the stairs to the house. It had been an odd few days, in and around the same environment as his mother. He’d not been sure what to do or say for casual conversation; once all of the obligatory topics dried up, awkward silences filled them, and so he then hadn’t sought her out unless he needed something specific. Then it was as warm and comfortable as it was supposed to be, and as he couldn’t just spend time doing _nothing_ with his mother, he had an extra spring in his step when he had the excuse to speak with her. 

There was a second _puff_ from the fireplace as he let himself in, a figure disappearing with a swirl of Floo, and Scorpius grinned to see the crate in the middle of the living room. ‘That was quick!’ 

Astoria stood at the kitchen counter, and he thought he saw something flicker in her face. She was used to living alone, he remembered with some embarrassment, so he probably shouldn’t be barging in as he pleased. ‘Oh, yes. I _do_ know the owner of the library in Clarence Town. He was perfectly happy to send me some books; I’ll just be sure to swing by his next fundraiser.’ 

He smiled and joined her. ‘I’m glad you do that.’ 

‘Do what?’ 

‘Fundraisers. Friends. Society. You’re good at it.’ She’d always liked the parties, he remembered. He’d sat in her room as she got ready when he was little, made a nuisance of himself stealing her shoes or getting in the way, and it had always driven her to madness in a manner a young boy had found _hilarious_. 

_Or was she actually irritated_ _…_   
  
‘Oh, well, yes. I like to make myself useful.’ Her words interrupted his recollection, and she gave him a bright, sunny smile. ‘I hope this is of use for your friend.’ 

‘The books won’t save him. But maybe they can help us save him.’ He rapped his fingers on the top of the crate. ‘If we find the Chalice, it should make him okay. Or so our experts are reckoning.’ 

‘You make it sound so easy.’ Her smile flickered. ‘Is it?’ 

Scorpius stared at the crate. He’d dislocated his shoulder fighting an Inferius on Brillig Island. Been stabbed in the leg by a golem in Badenheim. Wrenched that same leg in a crash broom landing in Monte Carlo. Almost been murdered by a terrorist wizard in Syria. ‘No,’ he breathed. ‘It never is.’ 

The danger that had defined his life over the past months hung in the air between them like an ugly ceiling fixture that dangled too low to be ignored and had to be ducked under or walked around. It rattled when he hesitated, and so there was a long moment before they both drew deep breaths and spoke at the same time. 

‘Mum -’ 

‘The thing is -’ 

He closed his eyes and didn’t turn towards her. ‘Where were you?’ _Not just since Phlegethon. Since you left. Where were you?_   
  
He could almost hear her cringe. ‘I was here -’ 

‘That’s not what I mean and you know it.’ His throat tightened as he turned to face her, voice going cold, expression going flat, and he saw her flinch as their eyes met. Then he had to swallow down horror, too. _How much do I remind you of him?_   
  
Astoria Greengrass wrung her hands together and did not approach. ‘You have to understand - Scorpius, I’m your mother and I love you very much -’ 

He’d dreamt of affirmations like this. Reminders that he had a parent out there who cared, who accepted him, who supported him. Except all he could hear were the unspoken excuses, the undercurrent of desperation, and now he was getting all he’d wanted, it rang hollow. ‘You knew about Phlegethon; it was all over the international press. I’m sure you knew I was one of the conscious few -’ 

‘Yes, but -’ 

‘So why didn’t you write?’ 

Her gaze dropped. ‘What good would it have done?’ 

Something burst in his chest, and before he knew it he’d crossed the distance, slammed his palm on the kitchen counter. ‘I would have _known you were out there_!’ 

She flinched again and he realised how much taller he was than her, how there was such an edge in his voice when he was angry. No longer the joker, the slacker. Cold and harsh and ice, and this time he couldn’t care. She stared at his chest and stammered when she spoke. ‘I couldn’t just send a letter -’ 

‘Why the hell not?’ 

‘Because everything went through the Ministry, and so it would have gone through _him_!’ Now their eyes met, and he saw the anger mixed with pain. ‘Do you honestly think he would have passed on _any_ opportunity to control me again?’ 

‘Control - it’s a _letter_ -’ 

‘And he could have controlled if it went through or not. And so I’d have had a message: _“I’ll send it if you come to Britain. Let’s meet so we can talk. Let’s meet so we can discuss our son_.”’ 

‘And would that have been so terrible?’ 

‘He wouldn’t have wanted to talk! He’d have just wanted to use you to trap me! Again!’ 

‘It was - there were other people involved! Hermione Granger! She wouldn’t have -’ 

‘I’ve barely _met_ Hermione Granger! You know what I know of her? That she’s a woman who despised my husband and his family, and he despised her! _Why_ would she help me?’ 

He flexed his hands and forced himself to remember that his mother had not seen the slightest hint of what Hermione had done for him, even before he was her daughter’s boyfriend. He could hear Astoria’s fear and even her pain, but the cold sense of abandonment that had frozen him last winter was icing up his gut all over again. ‘So you stayed away and did _nothing_?’ 

She looked away. ‘You didn’t need me for a long time.’ 

‘You’re my _mother_! Of course I needed you! But you _left_!’ 

‘I didn’t leave you!’ Now she was at his side, clutching his elbow. ‘I left him! I left him and so I had to leave you because otherwise he’d - he’d use you like a web to draw me back in. _Every_ time I tried to contact you, tried to spend time with you, and I couldn’t -’ Her voice broke, words tumbling together like a landslide of shattering emotions. ‘You’re my son but I couldn’t let him trap me again…’ 

Tears were running down his mother’s face, but the ice in him was now a wall between them. He pulled his arm away. ‘So you let me be alone? With him?’ 

‘You were at Hogwarts -’ 

‘Not all the time! For four years! I saw you _once_ since you left, came here _once_ -’ 

‘And to do _that_ took weeks, _months_ of him trying to get me indebted to him! He said he’d pay for the Portkey, said he’d pay for you to stay here, and I knew, I _knew_ he’d then try to use that! Say I should see him, that I owed him that for the money he spent on you! I just wanted to be _away_ from him!’ 

‘And me!’ Scorpius’ fists clenched by his side. ‘Maybe it’s not what you wanted, but it’s what you got. Away from him, and _away from me_. Was it _that_ bad?’ 

She stepped back as if struck and didn’t answer right away, letting his words echo in the warm, sunlit kitchen. His chest heaved from the sheer rage at her, at his father, at his _life_ , but despite himself the edges of the moment began to soften as it drew on. So he remembered that he was angry because if he didn’t feel anger, he’d feel pain. Gaping, gnawing loneliness, ripping away at his guts, so he couldn’t look at his mother when finally she spoke, not looking at him, voice quiet and distant. 

‘I was young when I married your father. Younger than him at an age where it mattered more; just out of Hogwarts, no real concept of the world. Marry a good boy with a good name, that’s all our families wanted. Or, the good name, at least. The “good boy” was optional. And your father was - he was so resentful of the war, of all that his family had done and all that had been done to them. Maybe he could have regretted it, repented, made amends? He was softer then. More open to the idea that he was at fault, that his father was at fault. Except his father was in Azkaban, so it was easier to think of him as a victim. 

‘And then the law changes started to come in. Stripping down the old institutions, the old Pureblood rights. And society changed, too, and the more your father tried to rebuild the family, the more he realised the Malfoy name was dirt to most of the wizarding world. Perhaps it deserved to be dirt, but it didn’t take long before he stopped viewing that as justice, and started to resent it. Everything - _everything_ your father has done these past twenty years has been about the family name.’ 

Scorpius stared at the window, the bright Caribbean sun painting a picture of an island paradise which was so far from his life that it might as well have been a photograph. ‘I know,’ he mumbled. 

‘I think that’s what made him who he is,’ Astoria said. ‘He could take the punishments to his father. Maybe even to himself. But the idea that he would die with the name Malfoy as dirt in the wizarding world was just something his upbringing couldn’t tolerate. And to give him credit, he tried to make the name something else. No longer the idle rich, but a name of business. Of _modern_ respectability. Important, but important in a way which meant something to the new world. Where he’d earned his standing.’ 

‘Except he was obsessed with it.’ 

‘Yes.’ She closed her eyes. ‘And so he didn’t try to become the right father and husband for us. We had to become the perfect family for him, for how he was _perceived_. He’d work long days and late hours and then expect me to drop everything to pander to thispublic spectacle or that social event. And then if it didn’t go right, if it didn’t go _exactly_ how he wanted it, he’d have such foul moods.’ 

Scorpius’ expression tensed. ‘I remember. And so it became too much for you. And so you left.’ 

Astoria sighed. ‘So I left.’ 

‘And you left _me_ , too.’ He turned to her, throat tight. ‘You couldn’t have taken me with you?’ 

She looked at him, such pain and pity in her eyes that he knew the answer before she even said it. ‘It was bad enough his wife divorced him. Do you think he would have accepted her taking his son with her?’ 

‘You would - you have money from your family, he works long hours - you don’t think you could have made a _damn_ good argument that I’d have been better off with…’ But his voice trailed off. He knew the answer already, and the tension started to fade for that dull ache to return. ‘But that would have taken fighting him. And you weren’t willing to fight him.’ 

‘I fought him so much -’ 

‘But not for me.’ He bit the inside of his mouth as he fought for his composure. ‘Not for me when I was little; you stayed out of the way when he had his moods with me. Not for me when you left, because you just wanted to get _away_ , not try to get me out with you. Not even for me when I was face-to-face with death, when all it would have cost you was a _conversation_ with him. You just ran away to the far side of the world and shoved your head in the sand.’ 

‘Scorpius -’ She moved for him again, reaching out, but he took a sharp step back. ‘You have to understand - you remember what he was like, what he _is_ like -’ 

‘Yeah, I do. I remember far, far better than you. Because I’ve had to _live_ with that. And I get that he hurt you, I get that he was monstrous and selfish at you.’ He bit his lip again, now hard enough to draw blood. ‘And I get that it hurt you so much that you abandoned me to it.’ 

‘I didn’t want to -’ 

‘What, expose yourself?’ He turned away, because if he looked at her a second longer he was going to really lose his temper, and he was too aware that his temper was his father’s. ‘You know what - I have work to do. I have important work to do, and I can’t _deal_ with this right now. I have to stop someone I don’t _like_ from dying, and then thwart a bunch of international dark wizards!’ 

He stalked to the crate and heard her footsteps following. ‘Scorpius, wait -’ 

‘ _Why_?’ A swish of his wand levitated the crate of books. ‘So we can talk some more about the past we can’t change? So you can justify abandoning me to a man you hated -’ 

‘I’m not _justifying_ -’ 

‘Yes, you are!’ He whirled around only to find her closer than he’d expected, so now he was looming down at her, fists clenched, eyes blazing, and this time when he saw her shrink back he did care. It just gave him, somewhere deep in the blackest part of his anger and hurt, the tiniest shred of satisfaction that he could deliver even the smallest sliver of payback. ‘You’ve not apologised. You’re not sorry. You’d do this all over again if you had to. Because getting _yourself_ out of that situation, leaving him like you did and then failing to even get in touch for _your son_ is, in your head, absolutely justified. He might be cruel, but my _God_ , Mum, at least he’s tried to be in my fucking life!’ His jaw set. ‘And the most damning thing? Leaving made him _worse_. But you didn’t care about that.’ 

‘I _did_ care -’ 

He pulled away, stalked to the door, the crate bobbing along behind him in an amiable manner so completely at odds with his fury and pain. ‘Sure. Okay. Just not enough to _do_ anything about it.’ 

She said more, maybe. Gave more excuses, called his name, called for him to not leave. He wasn’t sure, because all he could hear was the rushing in his ears as he stormed out the door into the bright sunshine that couldn’t melt the ice in his gut or soothe the raging anger in his heart. 

And worst of all was that, deep down, he’d known all along that it would go like that.

* * 

‘I’ve got it!’ said Rose, clutching de Sablé’s letters as she lunged to her feet and almost hit her head on the window alcove in Selena’s cabin. ‘It’s not a person, it’s a place! Watlings Island!’ 

Lisa felt her heart lurch with an unusual sense of hope as she lifted her head. ‘That’s where the Templars actually went to find the Chalice?’ 

‘No!’ Rose’s smile became fixed as she stared at the notes. ‘…no. They went to San Salvador. The letters are _explicit_ that the last place they went before they disappeared was San Salvador, investigating local rumours of ghosts in a cave near an abandoned hermitage.’ 

Selena arched an eyebrow. ‘So what’s Watlings Island?’ 

The smile faded. ‘They… stopped off there before they went to San Salvador.’ 

There was a long silence where Lisa and Selena stared at Rose, only for nothing else to come. ‘That’s it?’ Selena said. ‘They stopped somewhere called Watlings Island? Did they do anything?’ 

‘Resupplied.’ 

‘And _that_ _’s_ the great clue Matt left us? That they stopped off at some _fucking_ island?’ She was on her feet now, and Lisa had to absent-mindedly marvel at how such a small woman could make a room shrink around her and her anger. ‘Is it a _magic_ island?’ 

‘I don’t… I don’t know.’ Rose’s brow knotted. ‘I’ve never even heard of Watlings Island.’ 

‘I’ve not seen it on any of the maps,’ Lisa added. ‘It’s not a hidden one? Somewhere like Brillig or Kythos?’ 

‘What does it _matter_?’ Selena snapped. ‘It’s not where the Chalice is!’ 

‘Matt thought it was important.’ Lisa reminded her. ‘We should find out what it is.’ 

‘For all we bloody know, Matt knew something some obscure bit of history about the place and was on the verge of ranting about magical colonialism which had nothing to do with the Chalice!’ 

They fell silent as Selena stamped her foot and everyone, Lisa suspected, reflected on how this was very possible. She exchanged a glance with Rose, an unusual, companionable moment where they knew they were both thinking the same thing - and that neither of them had an answer. 

Luckily, at that moment the door to Selena’s cabin burst open and in staggered a grey-faced Scorpius. He was wild-eyed, wild-haired, and it was only then that Lisa glanced to the window and realised they had been so deep in their reading they hadn’t noticed the ship had left Andros Island. 

He stared at them all, then locked his gaze on Rose. ‘Hey.’ 

But his voice creaked and he was even swaying on his feet. Lisa scrabbled upright but Selena was quicker, grabbing her by the elbow. ‘I’ve just remembered there’s that terribly important _being somewhere else_ we need to get to,’ Selena blurted, and Lisa didn’t resist when she was bundled past Scorpius and into the corridor, the door slamming shut behind them. 

They let out tense breaths, before Selena pressed her hand to her forehead. ‘That’s _my_ cabin,’ she said, as if only just realising this. ‘They’re going to have sad sex in _my cabin_.’ 

Lisa stared at the opposite wall and tried to summon some sort of appropriate response to that. In the end, all she could manage was, ‘They might not?’ 

‘Oh, _please_.’ Selena waved a hand as if the idea of a reassuring hug and a quiet conversation was beyond consideration. ‘We left all the books in there, too.’ 

‘We could take a break.’ 

Selena’s brow knitted. ‘Yes, let’s -’ 

‘Let’s walk.’ Lisa fell into step next to her, guiding and half-steering her towards the deck. She wasn’t sure why she was doing this, but something had been churning inside since Brillig and Downing, part of the new feelings she was suddenly letting herself listen to, even if she wasn’t sure how to act on them. 

Selena gave her a dubious look. ‘All right.’ 

They couldn’t have been underway for long, Lisa thought as they emerged on deck, because she could still see Andros Island in the distance. The crate of books Scorpius had picked up from his mother was sat by the door, and Selena gave it a critical look. ‘So that explains that.’ 

‘What?’ 

‘Scorpius. His parents. A source of never-ending social awkwardness that even I won’t touch.’ Selena sighed. ‘Some situations are simply not worth getting entrenched in.’ She turned to face her. ‘So, you’re panicking.’ 

‘Panicking?’   
  
‘You came up here to talk. That’s Talk, by the way, capital T. I know the tricks. I _made_ the tricks and you’re not subtle, Delacroix. But I can’t reassure you that you’re not making an enormous mistake.’ 

_Talking is a mistake?_ Then Lisa tried to not laugh at how naive she sounded in her own head. ‘What _are_ you talking about?’ 

Selena gave a tired but companionable smile, and put a hand to her shoulder to guide her onto the sun-bathed quarterdeck. ‘I can’t give you any advice, because I have almost nothing to base my impressions on. He never showed any _real_ interest in girls before. Truth be told, I sometimes wondered if he preferred boys…’ 

It took a moment of squinting before realisation came. ‘Oh. You’re talking about Albus.’ 

‘Of course I’m talking about Albus.’ Selena rolled her eyes. ‘Now, you’re a smart girl, just emotionally incompetent. That’s okay. We can’t all be me, well-balanced and with perfect poise in all sorts of crises. And I don’t know what he looks for, so I can’t tell you how to act or what to do to please him -’ 

‘I don’t need your advice to -’ 

‘Al does nothing by halves. He’s smart and sensitive, but he doesn’t understand nuance very well, bless him. If you have his trust, he will watch your back all the way to hell. If you don’t… the boy does have something of a temper on him under the wrong circumstances.’ 

‘We’re -’ 

‘A thing, I know you’re a thing. And that’s fine. It’s nice to see him smiling, properly smiling. It’s nice to see _anyone_ smiling right now. But there’s one surefire way of ruining all of this: lying to him.’ 

Lisa gave Selena a flat look. This situation was wriggling completely out of her control. ‘I have no intention of lying to him,’ she lied. 

‘Look, Lisa, sweetie.’ Selena’s hand on her back grew firmer. ‘You and I have steered clear of each other mostly, and let’s not pretend we don’t both know why. You’ve got secrets and that’s fine, and so long as we’re all on the same side in this I really don’t care what kind of sordid history you’ve got. Just don’t act like you’re on the level around me. You haven’t so far; you don’t play a player.’ 

_A player? Little girl, you and I aren_ _’t in the same_ game _, let alone the same_ league _._ It was odd how her first reminder in days that she was here to trick, manipulate and betray them that didn’t make her feel sick was born from an attack on her pride. 

Lisa fixed Selena with an apologetic smile. ‘I wasn’t going to ask you for advice because I thought you had enough on your plate with all of this, and Matt.’ 

She was rewarded with a flicker of Selena’s expression. ‘I’m more focused on research than Matt -’ 

‘Because the research might save him? Or because the research gives you an excuse to stay away from him? I know Al’s been down to see him. And Rose. Even Scorpius -’ 

‘Scorpius went down to see the _Professor_ -’ 

‘I imagine he looked in on Matt, though. Even Scorpius.’ Lisa put a hand on Selena’s, her touch firm and yet injected with all the warmth she could muster. It was a strange gambit, this; a diversion and yet, somehow, a genuine effort to help. ‘You don’t have to run from him.’ 

Selena pulled her hand away. ‘I’m not -’ 

‘I get it. You pushed him away after Tomar, and now he’s injured, maybe even dying. So you feel guilty, so you don’t want to go to him, because then it makes it too real that you didn’t go to him when you had the chance, but you _don_ _’t_ need to feel like that. You don’t need to hide away.’ _And you sure as hell don_ _’t need to spend too long thinking about me._

‘I’m not hiding!’ she snapped. ‘Just - I go to him, fine, and then what do I _do_? Say? Weep over his dying body? Sit by his bedside and watch him lie there, comatose? I didn’t spend much time with my _best friends_ in Hogwarts when they were hit with Phlegethon; you think I’m going to go wring my hands at _his_ bedside when there’s work I could be doing?’ 

The practical part of Lisa’s mind had to appreciate this. There _was_ no purpose to going to visit a sick, dying man who wasn’t even conscious. Nothing could be changed. But the parts of her that were awakening, the part of her which knew her day could be brightened by a single one of Albus’ smiles, knew the world and the human heart were more complicated than that. And they knew Selena wasn’t being pragmatic, but hiding from those parts of herself, because they could hurt so, so much more. 

‘I worry,’ said Lisa, sympathetic and yet calculating, ‘that you’ll regret this. That’s all.’ 

Selena straightened as if struck. ‘What I will regret,’ she said in a low, cold voice, ‘is failing to get the answers in time. Not doing enough work to _get_ those answers. And, increasingly, starting this conversation.’ 

Then she swept away, down the stairway to the main deck and into the belly of the ship, leaving Lisa behind with the curious mixture settling into her gut of success at driving away probing questions and looks, and guilt at using the most supreme of pains in order to achieve such a deflection.

* * 

The moment Rose realised the ship had left Andros Island, she knew what had happened. ‘Sit down.’ 

Scorpius sank onto the bed, and she pushed the scattered research notes and flat-open Book of Many Books to one side so she could sit next to him, one hand clutching his, the other brushing matted hair out of his face. ‘I don’t… I…’ 

‘You spoke to your mother?’ 

He nodded, mute for a long moment. When he swallowed, it looked like it was painful. ‘She explained - I mean, I asked her…I don’t know how to explain it.’ 

Eyes closing, she wrapped an arm around his shoulder to pull him closer, and he sagged against her, face burying into the crook of her neck. ‘I’m so sorry, Scorpius. I’m sorry she wasn’t all you thought she was.’ 

‘She blamed him, you know. For everything. And I could almost see it, except I couldn’t quite - I mean, he was so horrible she couldn’t possibly contact him for anything… not even for me?’ His voice creaked and there was the slightest shake of his shoulders. For a moment she thought he was going to cry and a jolt of fury ran through her at everyone who’d ever hurt him, even herself, but he drew a careful breath and steeled himself. ‘Not even for me. She couldn’t stand to face up to him even for me. So she abandoned me.’ 

_What do I even say to that?_ Rose didn’t know, so she just stroked the back of his head, planted a gentle kiss at his temple, at the corner of his jaw, and he curled up tighter against her. 

It took some time before Scorpius spoke again, and when he did, his voice was firm but unaccusing. ‘You knew, didn’t you.’ 

‘No,’ she murmured, nuzzling his cheek. ‘I suspected. I didn’t think she could be so completely innocent, not to have left you alone for so long. I knew she had to have, at the least, been selfish enough to abandon you.’ 

‘I guess you were right,’ he murmured, and she reflected on how once she’d have been nothing but smug to hear him say that to her. ‘I know he’s been horrendous, but I can’t imagine leaving someone I loved trapped by him. That’d be worse than putting up with it myself, I just can’t… I can’t imagine it.’ 

‘There are lots of different forms of cruelty.’ She found her fingers playing with his hair in a rhythmic, soothing routine. ‘Your father indulges in active cruelty. But neglect and selfishness… those are their own forms of cruelty.’ 

Another silence, and she could almost hear his thoughts tumbling over, crashing together and then coming apart. She knew him so well she could sense their ebbs and flows by now, so much that she almost felt what he was going to say before he said it. ‘He got worse when she left. I assumed she was holding him back before, or that he was angry and took it out on me. That she’d ruined his constructed ideal of the perfect family. But she hurt him too, didn’t she.’ 

Now she was on delicate ground, remembering their argument the previous week. ‘I think people, when they’re hurt, can still be cruel. And I think your father can be a terrible man, and still be a man in a pain he didn’t necessarily cause or deserve.’ 

‘For years I assumed he was all wrong and she was just the victim. And, I mean, she was. He hurt her, he tormented her. But she married him for a reason, and that’s - people can change, they can turn cruel. And I don’t mean, like, she married him so she accepted everything bad he did to her. I just mean…’ 

‘It’s complicated.’ He’d lifted his head, and she brushed her lips across his cheeks, his knotted brow, as if a kiss could soften it. 

‘Maybe he was more wrong. But maybe she hurt him, too. Maybe they were both wrong, in their ways. Both selfish. Both hurting each other. Both hurting _me_. It’s not as simple as saying he was the monster and she was the innocent.’ His eyelids fluttered open, and when their gazes met in the gloomy cabin, she could have sworn his eyes were a flash more grey, more like his father’s in this quiet, subdued moment. For once, the thought didn’t make her shiver. 

‘There’s all the time in the world to make sense of this, Scorpius. And I’ll help you - we’ll _all_ help you. I bet when we’re back there are people you can talk to who’ll help you figure all of this out. And I’ll be with you every step of the way.’ 

‘Even if one of the people I want to talk to is my father?’ He tensed, and she didn’t know if he expected her to be wary of his father, or wary that after all their arguments, he was finally discussing going back to speak to him. ‘I don’t - I don’t know what I want of him. I don’t think this suddenly undoes all he did to me, or makes him the innocent victim. But I think I’ll need to… maybe… when all of this is over, talk to him again.’ 

‘And I’ll be there with you if you want, or waiting for you after if you want, or giving you all the space in the world, if you want.’ 

He caught her hand at his jaw, grip on her wrist on an impulse iron-tight. ‘No space,’ Scorpius rumbled. ‘I need you. I need you watching my back in all of this. Looking after me even in spite of myself. Sticking by me.’ 

‘I will. I do. Every time.’ She leaned in, lips brushing the corner of his mouth - hesitant not because she didn’t want to be close to him, but because she didn’t want to force his walls of self-control down. But he sighed, tilted his head down, and then his mouth was on hers, ardent and needy and honest. 

She had to cling to him for stability as the cabin rushed around her at his embrace like she was flotsam in a storm, but then she had to claw for air, too. Not because she couldn’t breathe, but because she had to speak, even if they were words mumbled desperately against his lips in the shortest of possible breaks between kisses. ‘I love you, Scorpius.’ 

She had to say it, had to say it again, because last time she’d said it there had been thoughts preying on her which weren’t about him, or them - she had to say it again at a time when every inch of her thoughts and feelings were on him, were _his_. And she felt a shudder run through him, his arms around her tighten, and she let him guide her down onto the bed - 

Then he pulled back with a jerk, and a part of her was reminded so harshly of Paris that a cold chill ran through her. But he wasn’t gone - just inches away, and he didn’t look startled or upset. He was, in fact, wearing a wry and bashful smile as he looked down at her. ‘This is Selena’s cabin.’ 

Heat rushed through her of an entirely different kind and, abashed, Rose sat up with him. ‘Oh. Um. Yeah, it is. We were just, er, doing research.’ Embarrassed for no real reason, she found herself tidying her already-dishevelled hair. 

‘And I’m a terrible interruption and distraction.’ 

‘You _are_.’ She gave him a sidelong look, lips twitching, and with a guilty air she reached to tidy some of the research notes she’d rolled onto. ‘Though we weren’t getting anywhere but sniping at each other, so…’ 

_Watlings Island_ _… San Salvador Island… 1925…_   
  
It was purest chance that some sliver of her attention noticed the words on the papers, and she froze, staring down at them. Her chest tightened with altogether different sort of nerves, and her free hand reached out to clutch his wrist. ‘Scorpius.’ 

‘What? What, is this a Eureka moment or something - do you actually have those, do you actually _have_ Eureka moments?’ 

But she couldn’t summon a response to his banter as her eyes swam over the writing, and when she looked up, she was beaming the most satisfied of smiles. ‘Get the others. I’ve got it.’ 

‘Got what?’ 

‘The location of the Chalice of Emrys.’


	47. Leap of Faith

‘A pair of Templars left Portugal to hide the Chalice of Emrys across the Atlantic Ocean, at a time when wizards knew of this continent but Muggles did not,’ said Rose, looking across the galley at the gathered crew of their little ship. ‘Where exactly they hid it, they told nobody, and were never heard from again. But based on the course they took, when Templars wanted to find it again, they infiltrated Christopher Columbus’ Muggle expedition to the New World, and guided the ships to the island which, for the sake of upcoming simplicity, I will call by its native name, “Guanahani”.’ 

‘Do we really need another history lesson?’ Selena arched an eyebrow. 

‘They found nothing,’ said Rose, not missing a beat. ‘And returned empty-handed. Then, in the late eighteenth century, _another_ group of wizards wished to find the Chalice. The Knights Templar were all but dead by then, in practice; the wizards left were self-appointed protectors of the riches their order had gathered over the hundreds of years, guarding it jealously and keeping it from falling into the wrong hands. They deemed it time to return the Chalice to the hands of the holy, and so another expedition set off, this one led by a knight and wizard named Pedro de Valverde. They sent letters back to Reynald de Sablé, keeping him updated on their progress, until they went missing. Their last letter spoke of a promising lead taking them to a well-described cave below a hermitage on San Salvador.’ 

‘Again, we know this.’ 

‘San Salvador is, for those of you keeping track, the name Columbus gave Guanahani. But we went to the island all our maps are calling San Salvador, and we could find nowhere which looked as was described in de Valverde’s letters. And now I know why.’ Rose flattened the notes she’d found. ‘The San Salvador we searched and the San Salvador that de Valverde’s writing about _aren_ _’t the same island._ ’ 

Albus frowned. ‘Magical trickery?’ 

‘Not at all. Something _entirely_ more mundane.’ She straightened. ‘Columbus found an island. Columbus then left. Muggle technology wasn’t that advanced. Even our magical locator spells were not as sophisticated. Nothing was left behind on that island. Decades passed. Centuries passed. Columbus landed on one island amongst many and only his written records remained to let us know _which island was Guanahani_.’ 

Scorpius cocked his head. ‘So the island we’ve been searching on _isn_ _’t_ where Columbus landed?’ 

‘Actually, it is. That’s the problem.’ Rose exhaled. ‘But for a long time, Muggles and wizards alike thought that the island Columbus landed on was a _different_ island. For all that time, the island we _now_ call San Salvador was called “Watlings Island”.’ 

‘That was Matt’s clue,’ said Lisa. 

‘Exactly. _He_ saw the reference to Watlings Island, and he must have realised that if the letters were referring to Watlings Island and San Salvador as two different islands, then we were looking in the wrong place.’ 

‘So… where _was_ de Valverde talking about, if the place he thought was San Salvador isn’t San Salvador?’ Scorpius winced. 

‘In 1925, Muggle researchers decided that contemporary assumptions had to be wrong; that Columbus had, in fact, landed on the island they were calling “Watlings Island”. Watlings Island was renamed San Salvador - that’s the place we’ve been searching this past week. The place they’d _thought_ was Guanahani, the place de Valverde had written about, the place which for centuries was called San Salvador, was renamed. And is now called Cat Island.’ 

Selena reached for one of the maps on the tale. ‘This one I _have_ seen.’ 

‘It’s nearby - it had to be, to be confused with Guanahani. It’s a bigger island, but it’s hillier, rockier. I think that de Valverde stopped at San Salvador, Watlings Island, for supplies, and then went on the final leg of his search on Cat Island. You know, the really ironic thing is that if the Chalice _is_ on Cat Island, then the confusion between the two islands is even older than we thought if the Templars on Columbus’ expedition found Guanahani when it really wanted Cat Island in the -’ 

‘No more irony. I’ve had enough.’ Selena lifted a hand. ‘Let’s go to Cat Island.’ 

Everyone looked at Albus, who blinked. ‘I’m sold,’ he said, confused to be asked. ‘I mean, assuming you guys are all convinced by this. You’re the ones who’ve been doing the research and reading.’ 

‘I think there’s evidence that San Salvador isn’t the place we want,’ said Rose. ‘Cat Island might not be _the_ answer, but de Valverde went there, I’m sure of it. There’s got to be something there.’ 

‘And it has to be worth a try.’ Gazes swept down the table towards Lockett, who had sat in silence through Rose’s excitable briefing. Her expression was set, jaw tight. ‘Matthias is weakening. I’ve given you days; by all rights he should be dead by now. It’s four o’ clock in the afternoon. I would be pleased, but surprised if he lived until dawn.’ 

Selena’s expression pinched. ‘You didn’t say -’ 

‘He took a turn for the worst,’ said Lockett, voice emotionless. ‘And what would news have done except panic you when you needed to be focused on your work? I’m saying this now so that you don’t decide to go to Cat Island in the morning, fresh and rested. You have to go _now_. You have to pray that the Chalice _is_ there, and then you have to find it.’ 

‘A little over twelve hours to find an ancient magical artifact that’s been lost for six hundred years,’ said Scorpius, and despite the levity of his voice, his eyes were deadly serious. ‘I guess it’s going to end one way or another soon.’ 

‘No,’ said Selena, getting to her feet. ‘Failure is not an option. We’re coming back with the Chalice, or we’re not coming back at all. Al, set the ship on a course for Cat Island.’ Then she swept out of the room, and Rose didn’t let herself wonder where her friend was going, what could possibly be running through her mind with the knowledge they were at least an hour away from their destination. 

It was Lisa who broke the tense silence, Lisa who spoke as Albus got to his feet. ‘I don’t suppose we have a backup plan.’ Although her voice was dry she, like Scorpius, looked utterly serious. 

‘Rourke might have a flair for the dramatic,’ said a flat Lockett, ‘but she’s not wrong. I will give you what time I can, I will keep him alive for as long as I can, but you will have to find the Chalice… or you get to watch Matthias Doyle die.’

* * 

‘Do we have time for this?’ Scorpius looked sceptically at the markings in the dirt. 

They had been on Cat Island for an hour now, still in sight of the ship and the ocean, on a flat field which tumbled down to the sandy beach. For now the sun still shone bright, fat and lazy in the late afternoon, and only the coastal breeze and the cooling shade from the palm trees stopped the Caribbean heat from turning stifling. But night would come soon, and he knew tempers would fray when they started to fear the dawn. 

Or they were fraying already, from the look in Rose’s eyes as she stood and dusted off her hands. ‘Cat Island is more than twice as big as San Salvador. We spent three days searching before we decided we gave up. We have less than twelve hours. We need a clue, even just a _direction_.’ 

‘And this is going to get us answers this time?’ 

‘Tell you what, Malfoy.’ Selena flipped her hair, for once in a tight braid to keep it out of the way, over her shoulder as she finished inscribing her part of the ritual markings. ‘How about you run around the island looking and _we_ _’ll_ do this locating ritual?’ 

He bristled. ‘I’m just saying we -’ 

‘Guys.’ That was Albus, of course, big hands lifting as if he could tear the tension apart with a gesture. ‘We’ll do the ritual. Narrow down our options. And then we’ll be on de Valverde’s directions and _our_ senses.’ 

‘Thank you, Al.’ Rose nodded. ‘From the letters I’ve managed to narrow our search area down to the north coast, but that’s not especially narrowing when we’re still talking about a fifty-mile stretch.’ 

‘It’s better than nothing. Do your thing, Rose, Selena. We trust you.’ 

Rose blew a strand of hair out of her face and squinted at her work. ‘Great,’ she muttered. ‘No pressure.’ 

Scorpius looked away and let them get back to work. He’d never really stopped, he mused, to take in the beauty of these Caribbean Islands. The way the sky was larger out here, stretching from flat horizon to flat horizon and peerlessly blue in between. The way the ocean sparkled a lighter, more brilliant hue than anywhere he’d seen on Earth, almost begging him with each surging wave to plunge in and wash away the burdens of their responsibility like so much grime and sweat. 

The land itself wasn’t much to look at. Grass bleached by the sun, sparse trees that swayed this way and that in the sun - merciful though their shade was. Cat Island was more hilly than San Salvador or even Brillig Island, and he squinted across the island to see a peak rising to the east, something glinting white at the top. ‘What’s that?’ 

‘Don’t even think about it,’ said Rose. ‘That’s Mount Alvernia, and yes, that’s a hermitage built on top of it -’ 

‘Then why aren’t we poking around _there_?’ 

‘Because it was built less than a hundred years ago.’ 

_Unlikely to be what de Valverde wrote about_ , Scorpius had to concede. He settled for shoving his hands in his pockets and stalking back and forth as Rose and Selena worked. Albus watched with arms folded across his chest, occasionally moving to make this marking or that marking at their instructions. And, at the periphery, never moving closer, was Lisa. 

She usually remained silent when the group talked. Now was no different, but there was a stillness to her he hadn’t seen before. He didn’t know if this was a new level of peace, or a tension hanging about her like a snake coiled to strike - or flee. He slunk over, wanting to be out of the way of the ritual and knowing the last place Lisa would be found was underfoot. 

‘Do you think we can do this?’ His voice was low, worried, but he asked her because he knew she would have no time for platitudes or lies. 

Her dark eyes landed on him, suspicious. ‘If we don’t, he dies,’ was all she said. 

_I should have expected that._   
  
He’d been so distracted by his own concerns and by Lisa that Rose and Selena finished the tracing ritual without his noticing. There was a flash of invisible energy out of the corner of his vision, that _ripple_ magic left which he was powerless to describe using terms other than, ‘you know, _magicky_ ,’ and then Rose was on her feet, expression set. 

‘Forty miles or so to the east.’ 

‘Forty miles?’ He winced. ‘We don’t have much time.’ 

‘No,’ she agreed, brandishing her wand. ‘But we have apparition and a flat enough island for a line of sight.’ 

Scorpius was not a fan of mass apparition. Not even Rose’s, where they stood in a circle and she brought them whipping and cracking across the distance, five miles or so at a time. Despite their pressing deadline, even Selena accepted getting splinched was not a risk they could afford, and so the process was slow, careful, Rose stopping to consult a map and confirm their location every leg of the way. She could get them a hundred miles in a heartbeat if she knew her destination. But this was untouched territory, so they would stick with what they could see. 

They’d gone thirty miles, now at the peak of one of Cat Island’s rises, when they appeared next to a tall, standing stone they’d only been able to vaguely make out from their last leg. Rose smiled. ‘That’s promising.’ 

Scorpius staggered, trying to not lose his lunch as the island swirled around him. This part of land was more verdant, and he almost fell into a thorny bush. Down the hillside inland he could make out the white shapes of a village clustered together, some Muggle settlement in the gathering dusk, but up here all was quiet. ‘What, that we’re not dead yet?’ 

Rose patted the large, limestone rock. ‘I think this is a place de Valverde wrote of. A smaller rise to the west, marked by a “Indian” petroglyph.’ 

He squinted at the rock. She had her wits about her better after an apparition; he was barely soaking in the fact that there was a giant lump of stone in front of him, let alone that it was carved. ‘Indian? What?’ 

She coloured. ‘I mean, that’s what he called them. The indigenous people who lived here before the Europeans -’ 

‘Butchered. Displaced. Infected,’ Selena chimed in. 

‘…them. Yes.’ 

‘History is lovely,’ said Lisa, sounding like she meant none of this. ‘But this means we’re on the right path?’ 

Rose looked to the eastern horizon. The sun was getting fatter and lower in the sky. ‘We might find ourselves looking for ruins of a hermitage. It would have been one of the first buildings constructed by European settlers. But, I think we’re on the right path. Just a couple more legs now.’ 

There were, in fact, four more apparitions. They finished the forty miles in one, but then it was a case of scouring the tops of hillsides, Rose frantically conducting more spells to trace that magical sense of the Chalice’s presence. At last they found themselves at the top of a sharp rise straight into the ocean. The ruins of the hermitage were discovered soon after when Scorpius tripped over a limestone brick and landed flat on his face. 

‘Glad to be of help,’ he groaned, picking himself up as Selena stalked about, noting the layout of the building which had once sat here as if they could tell from a square outline that this had been a hermitage as opposed to any other kind of structure. 

‘We don’t have much time,’ said Selena, brow furrowed. ‘If this is even it. It might not be -’ 

‘Then we want a cave.’ Lisa kept her voice calm and firm. They turned as one away from the ocean to where the ground tumbled inland. But it was a gentle incline across wide scrubland, little by way of rocks, vegetation, and no buildings or signs of life for several miles in any direction. 

‘Rose, run that tracker spell again,’ said Albus, and he clambered atop fallen rubble as if the extra few feet would give him the height he needed to see far enough. ‘Of course, if it were obvious, someone would have stumbled across it by now. We might have a trace of the magical signature and de Valverde’s notes, which give us a better chance than anyone else, but people live here. Muggles and wizards alike. Surely _they_ _’d_ have come across it if it were just on a path.’ 

‘Then again,’ Scorpius mused, ‘we have no idea why de Valverde and his people went missing.’ 

‘I’ve got _something_ ,’ said Rose, swishing her wand and brushing aside bowing branches of a guava tree that had sprung up amidst the ruins. ‘Of course, you know what’s really helpful? It’s below us.’ 

Scorpius looked down. ‘Dig?’ 

Albus’ expression set, and he looked west. ‘I don’t think we’ve got more than half an hour of daylight and I don’t fancy searching for a cave in the dark. We should check the hillside.’ 

‘That’s a lot of gently slopinghillside to search for a probably-hidden cave,’ said Rose. ‘De Valverde described it as lying “in the shadow” of the hermitage, and wrote a lot of rumination about the shadow of a holy place -’ 

She went on, reaching into her jacket to pull out de Valverde’s letters, but Scorpius’ mind swam away while he scoured the area, gaze eventually settling on Selena, stood away from them by the edge of the cliff. She looked more detached than he would have thought, not agitated or working hard, but quiet, thoughtful, staring into the waters. 

Then Selena looked over her shoulder. ‘Guys?’ she said, just as Scorpius’ heart lunged into his throat. 

_I hate being right_ , was all he could think before she jumped. 

‘Bloody hell!’ Rose bounced up like a startled cat, and for once Scorpius saw her startling similarity to her father, not her mother. 

Albus was at the edge first, expression contorted with shock and fear. ‘ _Selena_!’ 

‘She won’t hear you.’ Lisa was calm when she joined him. ‘And it’s a good idea.’ 

Scorpius scuttled closer. ‘There are _way_ too many rocks down there for that to be a good idea. And this is _me_ saying that’s foolhardy and nuts.’ 

‘Shit.’ Rose clutched his arm, less blasé about the height. ‘She’s probably right, there’s no way the hermitage would have been built righton the waterfront like this; there must have been an earthquake or coastal erosion or the water levels rising or -’ 

‘Or anything.’ Lisa looked over. ‘Are we going after her, or not?’ 

Rose looked up, and Scorpius followed her gaze to the setting sun. Dusk was imminent. Matthias would be dead by dawn. She drew a sharp breath. ‘I hope to God she knows what she’s doing with levitation and breathing charms.’ Then she swished her wand before she, too, jumped. 

‘Fuck!’ Scorpius looked at the other two. ‘ _I_ don’t know what I’m doing with those!’ 

Lisa _looked_ at him. ‘Didn’t you play Quidditch?’ 

‘You assume I learnt how to land properly instead of crashing in a _spectacular_ fashion.’ 

She sighed. ‘You bloody schoolchildren -’ 

‘Hey!’ Albus looked indignant. ‘I know what I’m doing.’ 

‘Good,’ said Lisa. ‘Then you can take him. See you at the bottom.’ She didn’t even pre-cast her charms, just lunged, wand flashing out beside her to slow her fall only by a fraction before she was too far down to see. 

They really were a long way up, a good hundred feet or so. The sea was white and foamy as it crashed against the cliff, and Scorpius could see where the angry waves were broken up by jagged rocks. A levitation charm would allow them to steer their fall as much as soften it, but it just took a minor miscalculation for them to become paste. 

Albus wrinkled his nose as the speck that was Lisa disappeared into the water. ‘Okay. I don’t usually get to say this. But, seriously. _Women_.’ 

‘I know, right?’ Scorpius scowled. ‘They’re emasculating us with their magical competence and doing this by themselves. Before us, even.’ 

‘Exactly.’ Albus flicked his wand at his feet, and Scorpius saw his heels rise, the air cushioning him underfoot with the levitation charm. ‘Our very manliness is at stake.’ 

‘Yeah.’ Scorpius clutched at his arm. ‘Don’t you dare let me go down on my own.’ 

‘Deal,’ he said, then grabbed his wrist and lunged off the cliff, dragging Scorpius with him. 

Almost at once, Scorpius felt Albus’ magic weave around him, cushioning his fall so it was death-defying, not outright death. This added precious seconds to the descent, precious seconds which Albus spent summoning replenishing bubbles of air to cling to their faces so they could breathe underwater. Precious seconds which Scorpius spent screaming. 

He’d played Quidditch for too long to not be good with heights. But normally he had a broom, normally he wasn’t as high up, and normally he hadn’t been dragged off a cliff on a fall towards the sea and jagged rocks. 

It seemed miraculous that they missed those rocks, though of course it was Albus’ levitation charm directing them to deep waters. The ocean had looked so inviting when they’d stood at the shoreline forty miles away, but that had been calmer waters, and now night was falling. The impact alone was hard enough to knock the breath out of Scorpius’ lungs, and the chill had him gasping on reflex. This was a pretty dumb reflex considering they were underwater, but the summoned pocket of air around his mouth did its job, and even as the two of them sank like stones, his lungs filled up with slightly too-sweet, replenishing magical breath. 

As their sinking slowed, Scorpius let go of Albus and squinted through darkening tides, salty water stinging his eyes. He hadn’t seen the others resurface, and his heart thudded like it would burst from his chest before he looked at the cliffs and saw what they would have seen. Selena had been right. About thirty feet below where the ocean met the cliff, the rock-face was not natural and jagged, but suddenly went sheer. He thudded Albus in the arm, and the two of them swum towards what, as they drew closer, was obviously carved, intricate masonry. 

The pounding of Scorpius’ heart shifted from terrified to excited as he recognised that swirling, Celtic pattern - halfway across the world - that they’d seen in the catacombs of Paris and the Castle of Ager Sanguinis. It only grew louder when they saw the doorway set into rock which man could have perhaps once stood upon, leading to a passageway into the cliff itself. 

They swam, Albus’ more powerful form drawing ahead, dragging themselves through the water and then into the doorway. It was pitch black on the inside until Al drew his wand for a speck of light, and while the inside was an intricate corridor of brickwork and carved masonry, Scorpius couldn’t help but feel relief to see it lead upward. He followed, pulling himself along by the shattered stones in the wall, until the speck of light above and ahead grew brighter, and came with the ripple of illumination on a surface. 

Despite having been able to breathe all along, he couldn’t help but gasp for air when they surfaced, and regretted it when he tasted how _stale_ it was. He realised the corridor they’d come through had been sloping upward by stairs, as if it had once been walked, but the water stopped exactly as the stairway opened out into a large stone chamber. 

The light came from the others, Rose and Lisa stood with their wands billowing illumination across the room. Even as Scorpius and Albus pulled themselves from the water, they could feel the biting chill, now in a place which couldn’t have seen the sun for centuries, and he sank with aching muscles onto the paving slabs of the floor. ‘…let’s not do that again any time soon.’ 

‘We’ll have to do it on the way back,’ said Selena. She was stood ahead of the others, deeper into this dark stone chamber which reminded him so unpleasantly of the gloomier parts of Ager Sanguinis, staring at where a corridor led into greater darkness. ‘So suck it up.’ 

He gritted his teeth until Rose conjured a towel, passing it to him. They seemed to have dried themselves off as best they could while they waited, and so for a moment he did nothing but focus on getting _warmer_ , clambering to his feet. ‘Are you _crazy_?’ he demanded once he felt a little more alive. ‘Your Levitation Charms are _clunky_ at best.’ 

‘Just as well I didn’t use them, then.’ 

He _stared_ at her back. ‘You did a hundred foot drop into jagged rocks and water of an unknown depth _without magic?_ ’ 

‘You _do_ know Muggles manage to do things without magic and sometimes _not_ die?’ Selena gave him an arch look over her shoulder. ‘We didn’t have time to bicker, or to go roaming around the countryside. We have maybe six hours. Night here isn’t very long. That’s six hours to get through this place, _pray_ the Chalice is here, bypass whatever made de Valverde disappear, get _out_ , and get back to the ship. Not to mention the fact that isn’t a hard deadline. Lockett might be wrong.’ 

‘So let’s risk our necks doing something _crazy_?’ 

‘I really don’t think you’re the one to lecture me on that, Scorpius,’ Selena pointed out. ‘Everyone’s fine. We’re here. I’ll be happy to argue with you later, but right now _I_ want to press on.’ 

Albus lifted a hand. ‘First, do we know where we are?’ 

‘In a cave probably made by de Valverde or the Templars who came before him, sunk underwater either by the land changing naturally or a deliberate effort through magic to hide it,’ she rattled off. 

Rose rolled her eyes and reached for her papers. She herself was drenched, but even in a crisis she’d been fastidious enough to make sure the research material wasn’t ruined by a plunge into unknown waters. ‘He’d presumed that the first Templars had come to _hide_ the Chalice. That was the point, to get it away from the Papacy. And in his ruminations on the Chalice’s danger, how it’s a bridge between the worlds of the living and the dead, he talks about how it might need to be properly… contained.’ 

‘Oh,’ sighed Scorpius. ‘Good. Contain the endlessly powerful creepy-ass artifact.’ 

‘Which is going to save Matt’s life,’ said Selena, and without another word set off into the darkness of the passageway ahead. 

They sighed and followed, Lisa taking up the rear with military precision, Albus hurrying ahead to flank Selena. She did not slow down or wait for them, but she did let him draw level with her, and Scorpius reflected that even in the midst of her driven, maddened state, she was not crazy enough to turn down the protection Albus’ presence offered - physically and magically. 

‘This has to be deliberate,’ Rose muttered beside him. ‘The water stopped at the top of that stairway. This might not have been submerged in de Valverde’s day, but I bet this wasn’t sunk underwater naturally. This had to be magical, an extra layer of defence. Perhaps trapping him and his people in here…’ 

‘I just had a horrid thought,’ Scorpius whispered, keen to not be heard by Selena. ‘What if de Valverde _found_ the Chalice and decided he wanted to keep it for himself, so he didn’t tell de Sablé or anyone in Portugal about it? And, in fact, stopped writing to them altogether and disappeared with it?’ 

Rose made a face. ‘Then we’re fucked,’ she decided after a moment’s deliberation. ‘And Matt’s dead.’ 

‘This group needs to get better at lying to each other.’ 

‘We’re _excellent_ at lying to each other.’ 

‘Yeah, just not when it would be a kindness.’ Scorpius lifted his lit wand higher to cast erratic shadows down the passageway. ‘I’m getting sick of gloomy, mysterious corridors in ancient, mysterious ruins.’ 

‘This will be the last.’ Selena’s voice was as cold as the chill in the air as they pressed on. ‘One way or another.’ 

_One way or another_. He reached for his pocketwatch, mindful of their limited time, and sighed to see it was coming up on ten o’ clock. 

‘This is a little odd, though.’ Rose spoke in hushed tones. ‘The masonry here is precise stonework.’ 

‘So?’ 

‘So it looks like it’s been done with classical construction spells - or what we Europeans think of as classical construction spells, making buildings in European styles. Like Hogwarts.’ 

‘…so? The Templars who brought the Chalice here probably made it.’ 

‘I’d think that.’ Rose turned her wand to an archway they passed under. ‘Except those pictographs are Taíno - the indigenous peoples of these islands - in style. I think. They’re not European.’ 

‘So even Templars meeting these tribes for the first time were colonial arseholes,’ called Selena from the front. ‘Breaking news, Europeans go places and wreck things.’ 

‘Maybe they paid them?’ said Scorpius, and didn’t believe his own optimism. 

‘Then I’d want a refund.’ Rose pointed to wide gaps in the stonework of the walls. Instead of earth behind them, there was only darkness, small tunnels only a foot or so big working into the side of the cliff they were under. 

‘I don’t want to think about what’s down those,’ he said. 

‘Really big spiders,’ muttered Lisa. 

Scorpius wasn’t sure how long they walked. It felt like an eternity, but there was only so far the corridor could reach, this narrow passageway in the dark with its periodic giant-spider-holes and the occasional carving in a doorway that was either some native’s marking, or the same Celtic and Christian inscriptions they’d come to expect of the Templars’ Chalice holdings. 

Selena didn’t falter. Even if they’d been going for hours, she tore onward with no sign of fatigue or hesitation. If they didn’t keep up, she was going to make it to the end on her own, so even though his legs ached and Rose looked even worse, with all the magic she’d been casting that evening, Scorpius pushed on. 

Whether the passageway was ten metres or ten miles long - it could have been either and he wouldn’t have been surprised - it eventually opened out into another wide chamber, the rough rocks of a natural cave rounded off by patches of masonry. What made Scorpius stop and stare, though, was the ceiling. There was none, not really - it slanted upward then gave way for the roof of the cave, which reached up like a spire stabbing for daylight. And it did indeed find the surface, for moonlight pierced the darkness in narrow rays. The holes had to be seventy feet up, but the bands of silver still shone down upon them, reflected off the shimmering rock of the cave, and gave them light without their wands. 

Selena ignored this and stalked for the other end of the chamber, where short steps led to a large doorway. This was bathed in bright moonlight, directly in the biggest beam from above, but the door itself was stone, long-faded inscriptions carved all over the masonry. ‘Great,’ she said, and swore. ‘It’s Latin time.’ 

‘We need Matt,’ Scorpius muttered, remembering Ager Sanguinis. 

‘I’ll do my best,’ said Rose, going to join her. ‘It’s usually some sort of puzzle, some test of our knowledge. Though in Ager Sanguinis it tested our knowledge of Biblical matters on the assumption that the Muslim wizards couldn’t _answer_ that…’ 

‘Less conjecture, more answers.’ Selena pointed at the door. 

Rose grumbled, but she pulled out her notes and traced her finger along the inscriptions. Albus shook his head and began to walk the chamber, shining the light of his wand into the nooks and crannies in and about the rocks, while Lisa waited at the mouth of the passageway, staring into the gloom as if she expected something to come up behind them. 

Scorpius huffed to himself and, lacking anything else to do, pulled out his pocketwatch. ‘That’s odd,’ he mused. ‘It’s midnight.’ 

Selena looked at him like he was a distraction she’d happily wipe out. ‘So?’ 

‘I don’t know about you, but that trip felt like it took all of fifteen minutes or about six hours. Not much in between. Two hours feels odd. And it’s _midnight_. On the dot.’ She seemed unconvinced and he shrugged. ‘The last thing we need when we’re on a deadline is for time to screw with us. And I don’t know why it would do that.’ 

‘Because judgement,’ came a deep, mellow voice that echoed around the chamber, ‘cannot be rushed.’ 

The silver moonlight on the dais of the doorway began to swirl. Selena was next to it, but she merely side-stepped, eyebrow arched. ‘Oh, good. It’s mysterious ghost time.’ 

‘I remember when we found all of this weird, or at least surprising,’ Scorpius agreed. 

Rose turned away from the door as the light converged into a shimmering, translucent figure - humanoid, male, but too faint for any specific features to be made out. ‘Are you Pedro de Valverde?’ 

‘Yes,’ said the forming, ghostly form, ‘and no.’ 

Selena rolled her eyes. ‘It’s going to be one of those days, isn’t it. Let’s skip all of the “in fourteen-whatever I was a mystic arse who built this place through crazy magic so only the worthiest of people - by my own, arbitrary, loony judgement - could come get this thing I hid because I’m a self-righteous prick”. We want the Chalice of Emrys.’ 

Rose flinched. ‘Amazing diplomacy, Rourke.’ 

‘I’m saving us time.’ 

The ghostly form turned towards Selena. The black eyes in its approximation of a face, made more of light and shadow than specific detail, locked on her. ‘Judgement cannot be rushed. Time here is no issue.’ 

Rose stepped beside Selena and swatted her on the arm. ‘Who _are_ you?’ 

‘Pedro de Valverde. Rostang Vitrerius. Johan Dilber. Gualdim Ricardo -’ 

‘The knights of de Valverde’s expedition. The knights who hid the Chalice.’ 

‘I am the Guardian.’ There was a reverberating echo to the figure’s voice which Scorpius had first blamed on the cave. Now he listened, he realised it was because the words were made up of _several_ voices, mingled and conjoined. ‘I am here to protect the Chalice.’ 

‘Tough,’ said Selena. ‘We need it.’ 

‘Selena.’ Albus stepped over, and looked at the Guardian. ‘It’s in danger, and it _is_ needed again.’ 

‘You took it to hide it from people who would misuse it,’ said Rose. ‘It’s being sought again, and now not just by your rivals but dark wizards, people who _will_ turn it to evil works.’ 

‘And how,’ the Guardian’s voice rumbled, ‘are we to trust you? De Valverde once spoke as you did, thought as you did. The power of the Papacy was lessened. The Templars were no more. He and his men travelled across the world to find the Chalice again, to keep it safe - and to inspire wizard-kind to remember the role of faith in magic. So they followed their brothers’ footsteps, they found this place.’ 

‘I am so sick,’ Selena muttered, ‘of old men telling me of their ancient responsibilities.’ 

‘This Sanctum was built from the faith of Templar knights who would protect the Chalice, and the locals who were swayed from their heathen ways to help them.’ 

‘I bet they _loved_ being swayed,’ Selena said. 

The Guardian fixed its black-eyed gaze on her, no emotion in the shimmering form, or the chanting voice. ‘The Chalice shines with both the light of life and the darkness of death. If it is in either realm for too long, it will start to break through to the other. It is at its safest when locked between the two. This requires a blow to pierce the walls of our worlds and bridge the gap. We were _all_ that blow.’ 

Scorpius went cold as his mind raced back down the corridor - not away from this conversation, but remembering the gaps in the stonework, what he’d presumed were errors in magic or small tunnels, and all of a sudden he was _very_ glad he had not investigated those dark holes further. ‘You _all_ died to make this place?’ 

‘Like I said.’ Selena’s expression was ice. ‘I bet the locals were _happy_ to help.’ 

‘What about de Valverde and his men?’ Albus said. ‘They weren’t here at the creation, but they’re, er, _in_ you?’ 

‘Breaking the seal to find the Chalice broke the magic,’ said the Guardian. ‘But they listened to our words, and knew now was not the time to take it. They were virtuous men, some of the very few truly virtuous enough to claim it. And they realised their virtue was rare, and fleeting, and mortal. To take it into the world again simply invited the Chalice’s misuse by those who would see it only as a bridge to _darkness_. And so, though it was within their grasp, they renounced their desire for it, and fell upon their own swords that they might once again seal it away from evil.’ 

‘Adorable.’ Selena looked at the door. ‘We’re breaking the seal. We’re going in.’ 

‘Only the virtuous may claim the Chalice,’ the Guardian said. ‘Do you presume to be?’ 

She gave a one-shouldered shrug. ‘I guess we’re going to find out.’ 

‘Some day, the Chalice may be needed again in the world. We can only pray that now _is_ the time. That you are right to claim it, and virtuous enough to do so.’ The Guardian drifted towards the sealed door, Rose sidestepping _sharply_ out of the way so it didn’t go through her. ‘You will be tested.’ 

‘That’s fine,’ said Selena. ‘Weasley’s very good at tests.’ 

‘Only the purest can take the Chalice. Those who can prove themselves possessing of Wisdom, of Temperance, of Courage, of Justice.’ 

‘Then we’ll have to pass it,’ said Selena, looking at the other four. ‘Won’t we.’ 

Albus grimaced. ‘I suppose we don’t have a choice.’ 

‘Your only way out now,’ said the Guardian, ‘is back.’ It paused a moment, looking at them all - and when none of them said a word, lifted a shimmering, silvery hand and placed it upon the sealed stone doorway. 

There was the scraping sound of stone on stone, rumbling loud enough to fill the chamber - loud enough, Scorpius would have thought, to reach the holes in the roof of the cave and deafen everyone on Cat Island. The stone door swung back, dragged across rock, and dimly-lit masonry of another chamber, gloomy and indistinct from this distance, greeted them. 

‘Bugger,’ Selena breathed. ‘I guess there’s nothing for it.’ But before she could step forward there was another sound, audible only as the echo of the opening died. This one came from the passageway behind them, and it was not so deafening but a hundred times more chilling. Anguished voices, and low moans. A _lot_ of them. 

Lisa turned to the Guardian. ‘What is _that_?’ 

The Guardian’s figure began to fade. ‘Not all those who bridged the gap were swayed from their heathen ways.’ 

Selena glared. ‘Oh, you murderous, self-righteous _bastards_ …!’ 

‘Will they follow us through?’ Albus cut her off, gaze locked on the disappearing, ghostly form 

‘They do not answer the commands of this place. The magic of this place. They will interrupt judgement if they can, kill you if they can. They rebel against the rightful order, care nothing for virtues; show their twisted natures -’ 

‘Oh, shut up,’ snapped Selena, just as the Guardian finished fading and winked from existence fully. She peered a moment. ‘So that worked.’ 

‘This is going to be hard enough,’ said Scorpius, backing up the steps to the doorway, not taking his gaze off the tunnel they’d come from, ‘being tested on our virtues without having _something_ trying to kill us.’ 

Albus shook his head. ‘We hold our ground, put them down, and _then_ -’ 

‘No.’ That was Lisa, her expression set. ‘You four go through. There’s no telling if that door will stop them.’ Her grip on her wand tightened. ‘I’ll hold them off.’ 

He stared at her. ‘Are you _kidding_ -’ 

‘Let’s face it, I’m not what you need in a test of virtue.’ Her voice was low, firm, cold. ‘And if anyone can buy you the time you need to get this done, it’s me.’ 

‘We don’t even know what’s _coming_ ,’ said Albus. 

‘So get a head-start and pick me up on the way back.’ Lisa tilted her head to look up at him. ‘I know you wanted everyone to stop doing stupid things. But I think it’s my turn, Al.’ He looked like he was going to argue - but then she’d grabbed him by the front of his jacket and pulled him down to her for a reckless, decisive kiss. 

‘Guys,’ Scorpius muttered, feeling a hypocrite but also not wanting to be killed by angry, murdered spirits. ‘Trials. Chalice. Ghosts of genocide.’ 

Lisa let go first, and broke the kiss with a gentle shove to Albus’ chest, pushing him back to the doorway and the others. ‘Finish the job.’ 

Selena grabbed Albus’ sleeve. ‘She’s right. And we don’t have time to argue. So I’m going to make this simpler,’ she said. Al only got the briefest tug on her arm, and she didn’t fight his confused resistance before she let go and stepped through the door. The gloom swallowed her in an instant. 

Albus grimaced. ‘Of course she did that.’ 

‘Come on.’ Rose’s expression was set, but she extended her hands to both him and Scorpius, jaw tight. ‘This is the end. And there’s nobody I’d rather face it with.’ 

Scorpius could think of a lot of things he’d rather do, but there was no good argument. Not when Selena had just gone in herself, not when Lisa was squaring off against rumbling sounds of _something_ angry and vengeful making its way down the passage towards them. Not when Matt was still on the ship, dying by Eridanos, and not when the Council of Thorns was still in the world, planning to use the Chalice to kill more people. 

He took her hand, and the three of them entered the gloom together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Good grief, the San Salvador/Watlings/Cat Island explanation looks convoluted. This isn’t my fault! This is a piece of real life history; for centuries, we thought Columbus landed on an entirely different island, so the name ‘San Salvador’ has been given to different places over the eras. When I found out that one, it was far too tempting a piece of historical lore to not use._   
>    
> _Starfall remains educational as well as sprawling!_   
>    
> _Did I explain my headcanon on apparition before? I don_ _’t remember, so I’ll do it here. Obviously travel and distance are important aspects of Starfall, and I find the world more interesting if apparition doesn’t simply catapult you across the globe in an instant. My headcanon here works in two issues: apparition has a maximum range before it becomes dangerous, then impossible, and that apparition to places you are not familiar with is extra-dangerous. Hence Rose apparating along line of sight; she doesn’t know Cat Island, but she can safely get the gang as far as she can see._


	48. That Either Makes Me

_Why are you doing this?_   
  
Eva ignored the voice raging in her head, gaze fixed on the tunnel. Her wand moved almost of its own accord, a dance it had performed over and over, layering protective charm after protective charm over herself. There wasn’t much time; the low moaning and wailing drew closer and closer. She had more important things to do than argue with herself. 

_You_ _’re going to die here._   
  
‘I don’t die that easily,’ she muttered, drawn in regardless. 

_And if you do? What the hell are you dying for?_ Him? _You_ _’ll lay your life down for him?_   
  
‘It’s not that simple.’ 

‘You could have gone through.’ 

She started as she realised the voice was not in her head, that the shimmering shape of the Guardian had reformed. The silvery, translucent silhouette stood next to her, ethereal and indistinctive but still with the rumble of many voices. She gritted her teeth. ‘I thought you’d be overseeing trials.’ 

‘I am,’ the Guardian said. ‘If judgement took place only in tidy, organised rooms, it would not be true judgement.’ 

_Fuck._ Her wand swished again. ‘That makes sense.’ 

‘So your effort to avoid the trials you know you will fail is futile.’ 

‘If I win them the time they need,’ said Eva, ‘then it is not futile.’ 

‘They have faced their challenges together. And yet you face yours alone.’ 

‘I face _everything_ alone. That’s not a choice. If you have the magic enough to see who and what I am, then you know I couldn’t face those trials _with_ them. They would learn the truth, and then I _would_ be alone.’ There was a fresh echo, a new moan, and she levelled her wand at the passageway. Preparation was over. ‘Better on my terms.’ 

‘Even should it mean your death?’ 

‘I have no intention of dying.’ 

The Guardian cocked its head. ‘But you accept that risk. Crave it, almost.’ 

‘I don’t crave -’ 

‘In death, you no longer have to face your past. In death, you no longer have to make a choice. In death, you are forever Lisa Delacroix, who sacrificed herself. Not Eva Saida, who betrayed them. Dying is easy.’ 

Eva gave a bitter laugh. ‘If what’s coming is the weight of all _your_ past sins, then I suspect you’re right: dying will be _very_ easy. But unfortunately for us both, I’m a survivor.’ 

‘Perhaps.’ The Guardian started to fade. ‘Either way, this is not the place you face your judgement. Sacrifice, and be judged in death, Lisa Delacroix. Survive, and be judged in life, Eva Saida.’ 

She drew a sharp breath as the silvery shape next to her dissipated once more into nothing. And she was again, as she should be, alone. 

Perhaps it was because of Brillig Island, but she expected Inferi. Not the feral, warped shapes from Eridanos, but shambling corpses of the murdered inhabitants of Cat Island, sacrificed for the fear and faith of foreigners, furious and denied justice. It seemed apt. She wondered what _they_ had called this island, their home. 

But then there was the faintest light in the darkness, another shimmering, silvery shape, and she realised the low moans weren’t incoherent noises after all, but murmured, anguished words in a language she didn’t understand. And they came, drifting shapes that glided over the paving stones, ethereal figures as indistinct and anonymous as the Guardian, but united in their anguish and rage. 

Spirits here to destroy their murderers’ supplicants, and set to start with her. 

Eva Saida gave a thin smile as she lifted her wand. This was better. She’d spent months travelling through ancient ruins before she’d ever come to the Five, ever started this mission. Prometheus Thane’s hunt for clues for the Chalice, for other sites of necromantic power, had been long and it had been arduous. She’d learnt over and over how to deal with angry, vengeful ghosts. 

Not _this_ many angry, vengeful ghosts, admittedly. But the Guardian was right, only she chose to interpret her fate in a different manner. Die, and be absolved in death. Survive, and have a _chance_. 

All Eva Saida ever needed was a chance.

* * 

‘This is a room. I’m actually surprised,’ said Rose as light grew and took up the fight against the gloom. She looked to her left and right to see Albus and Scorpius still flanking her, Selena further to the side. ‘And we’re still together. Doubly surprised.’ 

‘Yeah,’ said Scorpius, nodding forward. ‘And we’ve turned something on.’ 

Light came from outside the chamber, light so bright it could have been daylight outside. But it was night and they were still underground, so the illumination which shimmered through stained glass windows to cast a kaleidoscope of colours across the granite floor and walls could not be natural. 

If someone told Rose she’d stepped into a church, she wouldn’t have been surprised. It was not a big chamber, dominated by the four windows flanking them - huge and arched, their stained glass in the same styles they’d seen in Monaco, in Tomar, even in parts of Ager Sanguinis. A knight fighting a dragon, a monk consulting a book, a figure stood alone in a barren land, a lord sat before a set of scales. She squinted at them, and wished Matt were here. He would have known their significance. He was the historian, not her. _Temperance, Wisdom, Justice, Courage?_

Then she heard Selena draw a sharp breath, and her gaze snapped to the front. If this was a church, then there was the altar - and her heartbeat, too, skipped a beat when she saw what sat upon it. Of course she recognised it. She’d seen it before, only the one they’d snatched from the vaults in the Rabbit’s Foot had been a fake. 

The Chalice of Emrys. The sum of all their struggles, a shimmering, golden cup sat upon a plain stone altar. She didn’t need her detection spells to feel the power pouring off it. ‘I’m pretty sure that’s real,’ she murmured, and Selena took a step forward. 

‘Stop.’ 

The voice - voices - rumbled and rolled, and the coloured light coalesced before them to take the shape, once more, of the Guardian. It seemed more real now, no less anonymous, but the colour gave it life, form, emotion. ‘Do not presume to claim it if you are unworthy.’ 

Selena’s lip curled. ‘I’m not sure I’m up to being judged by the ghost of crazy murderers dead for centuries.’ 

‘This judgement,’ intoned the Guardian, ‘is of _eternal_ virtues and principles. No time may pass which will stop good from being good, and evil from being evil. We worked and bled to protect the Chalice, to bind it with our magic. If you try to claim it without being worthy, you _will_ perish.’ 

‘I don’t -’ 

Albus lifted a hand to cut Selena off. ‘Let’s get this over with,’ he said. 

Rose nodded. ‘We don’t have time to argue.’ 

‘I’m not sure we’ve got time for _this_ , either,’ said Selena. 

‘I don’t think I have time to be zapped to death by a tomb’s protections,’ said Scorpius in a faint voice. 

The Guardian looked at each of them in turn. ‘Then it begins.’ 

The light changed, dimming from three of the stained glass windows, brightening to become almost blinding from the fourth. Rose squinted at it, and saw the monk clutching the book - before it swerved, narrowed to become a spotlight, and landed flat on her. She couldn’t help but be reminded of the spell in Badenheim, and on instinct she froze. 

‘There are four cardinal virtues against which you will be judged, and the first is Prudence,’ said the Guardian. ‘That is why it must be you.’ 

‘Um,’ said Rose. ‘It?’ 

‘You will all have your time. But we start with you, and with the mother of all virtues. Do you possess the wisdom to judge between virtuous and vicious? Or is yours knowledge without purpose? Prudence extended to caution which becomes the cowardice of inaction?’ 

Her brow furrowed. ‘How am I supposed to prove that I’m wise?’ 

‘We cannot judge on one moment. One moment is fleeting. A lifetime must be judged.’ 

‘ _Great_.’ Her breath caught. ‘How can you judge wisdom? Prudence? That’s surely subjective.’ 

‘How would _you_ judge it? You pride yourself upon your mind, your intellect.’ The Guardian paused. ‘And yet you do not define yourself by it.’ 

Rose furrowed her brow. ‘I don’t?’ 

‘You had a choice, once. And you chose not prudence, but courage.’ 

‘Oh. The Sorting? I was _eleven_.’ 

‘Do you regret this child’s choice, then?’ 

‘Not at all. But I - I _was_ a child. I was brought up on stories of my parents as heroes. It was only natural of me to think of Gryffindor as the place to want to be. My mother’s one of the smartest witches in the world and _she_ was a Gryffindor.’ Rose chewed on her lip. ‘It took me a while before I figured out what was right for me, instead of what I was brought up with it.’ 

‘And your conclusion in this conflict? Does wisdom win out? Or does courage?’ 

‘That’s not fair,’ said Rose sharply. ‘It’s not an either-or question, is it? Courage without wisdom becomes reckless stupidity, the exact fault people level at Gryffindor.’ 

‘So wisdom surely takes precedent.’ 

‘And what’s wisdom with inaction? What’s all the knowledge in the world if you do nothing with it?’ She squared her shoulders. ‘I was a Gryffindor, I _am_ a Gryffindor, because I have no intention of spending my life seeking knowledge for its own sake. You have to _do_ something with that knowledge. I didn’t study Legilimency just so I could do it; I studied it so I could try to _use_ it, and use it for a good cause, use it to _do_ good!’ 

‘And how did wisdom serve you in using such a skill?’ 

She’d felt like she had a grasp on the matter, on herself, but that question knocked the wind out of her. ‘I suppose that’s a good example of wisdom needing the temperance of other virtues, isn’t it? I wanted knowledge. I faltered on whether it was _right_ to seize that knowledge.’ 

The Guardian’s eyes were no longer dark, but shining a golden light from the brightness of the stained glass windows. ‘Do you deem that a failure?’ 

Her mouth went dry. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think I want to do it again. Isn’t that a part of wisdom? If you never make mistakes, you’re not wise, because you’ve probably then never _done_ anything. You have to learn from those mistakes.’ 

‘Even if they are unpalatable?’ 

‘Especially if they’re unpalatable.’ 

‘Then why,’ rumbled the Guardian, ‘do you ignore warnings that have appeared before your very eyes?’ 

She hesitated. ‘What warnings?’ 

‘I am not here to _illuminate_ you. I am here to judge you. And I judge that your pride and fear have blinded your wisdom. That you refuse to contemplate what you dislike, to act on what you fear. I judge that you have taken solace in _ignorance_.’ 

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. _What_ have I ignored?’ 

‘That which matters most. I am not here to illuminate,’ the Guardian repeated. ‘And still we see the child who values recklessness over wisdom, righteousness over accuracy, blind heroics over cautious knowledge.’ The light upon her faded, leaving only the Guardian’s shining, golden eyes in the darkness. 

Her stomach twisted, reaching up inside to wrap around her thudding heart. ‘That is _failure_? I don’t understand!’ 

‘You do not need to understand to be judged,’ was the Guardian’s only answer, and the light came back, this time from the opposite wall. The knight fighting the dragon, and the shimmering, multi-coloured spotlight strained through the stained glass window to land on Albus. She looked over to see her cousin straighten, green eyes locking on the Guardian, who turned towards him and said but one word: ‘Courage.’ 

_I_ _’m the world’s worst Gryffindor_ , Rose reflected. 

‘It seems only you can answer if I’m courageous or not,’ said Albus to the Guardian. 

‘I cannot accuse you of the most obvious vices of this virtue. Recklessness is not in your nature. Your physical courage cannot be questioned.’ 

Albus’ lips twisted. ‘This is where you’ll quiz me on my moral courage? Or remind me of my mistakes with Downing?’ 

‘Strength wielded against the defenceless, or the weak, is a vice,’ the Guardian agreed. ‘Your cousin affirms that virtues require learning. Did you learn?’ 

‘I’ve tried to.’ 

‘As for moral courage, one could say it is the bravest deed of all to champion a cause even in opposition to one’s own family.’ Albus looked confused as the Guardian pressed on. ‘This quest, despite your brother’s disapproval. A friendship, despite the enmity of your bloodlines.’ 

Jealousy of Albus was a feeling Rose knew well. The sensation reared its head again, despite herself, despite the severity of their circumstances. Albus, for whom everything came so effortlessly. Albus, who had abandoned her because he was _such_ a good fellow that he had to be friends with Scorpius. Albus, of whom even the blasted Guardian was spouting the virtues. 

‘Named, even, for a man your father described as brave,’ it continued. 

Albus flinched. ‘I’m not sure what that has to do with my courage.’ 

‘How you perceive courage matters. You disagree.’ 

‘I don’t know what I believe. I never met Severus Snape. I don’t know if it’s fair to judge a man based off stories. The good and the bad.’ 

The Guardian remained silent for a moment. ‘You cannot lie in these trials.’ 

‘I’m not -’ 

‘You know what you believe.’ 

Albus paused, then let out a deep breath. ‘I think, from all I have read, from all I have heard - from my father, who named me for him. From my godfather, who hated him… I think that Severus Snape is a fine example of how a man can be brave without being _good_. And it makes me think that there are more important things to be in this world than brave.’ 

_Is this a trick?_ Rose wondered. _Is this thing assigning us a virtue, then telling us we_ _’ve failed at it because it’s not what we value the most?_

‘You do not hesitate to hurl yourself into danger. You do not hesitate to stand for what you believe is right. That is what many would call courage,’ said the Guardian. ‘But to be brave, you must fear.’ 

Albus scowled. ‘You think I’m not afraid? We could die. Matt could die. The Council of Thorns could get the Chalice, and kill more people. I _do_ fear that.’ 

‘No,’ said the Guardian. ‘You _think_ that. You know of loss. You have never felt loss.’ 

‘Methuselah Jones -’ 

‘Is a man for whom you never wept. A loss you regret. Not a loss to tear you in half.’ 

‘You think that to be brave, you have to have suffered?’ 

‘You cannot fear that which you do not understand. To be brave in the face of adversity, you must understand what you have to lose. Know the true value of your life. Know the true value of those closest to you, and know the void they would leave in their wake. How can you truly champion what is right, when what is _wrong_ is only a fairy tale to you? No.’ The Guardian shook its head. ‘There is only one of you who can be truly brave.’ 

Albus bristled. ‘Then why aren’t you testing _her_?’ he snapped, hand shooting in Selena’s direction. ‘I didn’t step up and say, _I am brave_.’ 

‘But you will learn. You will face great loss - the injustices of the world, the fruits of your own misjudgements. Then you will discover if you are brave, if you can cling to who you think you are. Or if you will run. If you will hide.’ The light dimmed on Albus, a trial with no spoken judgement once again, and the Guardian’s eyes glinted in the gloom until the beam fell from the third window, the man stood in the barren landscape. It landed on Scorpius, and as it did, the Guardian spoke. ‘Temperance.’ 

There was a long pause. Scorpius looked dubious. ‘I think I know what you’re driving at,’ he said. ‘But let’s be clear. What’re you defining as Temperance, here?’ 

‘Self-control,’ said the Guardian. ‘And control over excess. Chastity. Humility. Forgiveness. Abstinence from indulgences.’ 

Another pause, this one lasting thudding heartbeats and broken only by the sudden burst of Scorpius’ laughter, a laughter which almost bent him double. ‘You’re _kidding_ , right? This game is _rigged_.’ 

‘These are the virtues which must be displayed in order to be worthy,’ said the Guardian. ‘We judge those to whom the virtue is the most relevant. For better or worse.’ 

‘In this case, for _worse_.’ Scorpius chuckled, that low laugh Rose knew stemmed from nerves. ‘All right, let’s get this over and done with. I splashed out for us to have a fancy hotel in Paris - oh, fancy dinner, too, let’s not forget that, enjoying food is probably a no-no. Or enjoyment of any kind. I _assure_ you there’s no chastity going on with my girlfriend, and you’ll probably hold against me the fact that I have _dared_ date and flirt with girls in the past. And flirted with boys, for that matter, you must _hate_ that. I’m _very_ humble, too, I tell people all the time. What did I miss?’ 

The Guardian did not smile. Nor did any of the others, for that matter. Rose felt her gut churn, Albus was stared at a wall, and Selena’s gaze was fixed, blazing, on the spirit itself, which uttered just one word. ‘Forgiveness.’ 

Scorpius smirked. ‘I like grudges.’ 

‘This is ridiculous.’ Rose spoke before she could stop herself, and side-stepped into the beam of light that engulfed Scorpius. This was harsher than the light that had fallen upon her, and as he seemed to have no trouble with it she assumed it was more cruel because it was not for her. ‘Daring to enjoy himself isn’t a sin - how about spending his money on this bloody expedition so we could do _good_? Does that win any points?’ 

‘Rose -’ 

She swatted Scorpius’ arm away. ‘You say you’re not humble,’ she told him. ‘And yet you fought _tooth and nail_ against _any_ acknowledgement for what you did in Hogwarts.’ 

‘I did no more than -’ 

‘You _got us the Resurrection Stone_! I don’t care if Thane gave it to you, you still went out to face him and just because luck played a part in success, you _genuinely_ think it wasn’t a big deal?’ She wheeled away from him to face the Guardian. ‘Surely the entire bloody _definition_ of Temperance, of humility, means that it would be against the spirit of the virtue for him to defend himself? To _brag_ about how humble he is?’ 

The Guardian turned its golden eyes on her. ‘You have more to say.’ 

‘I have a _hell_ of a lot to say! Forgiveness!’ She jabbed her finger at Scorpius. ‘He hated me for years, and I deserved it. But for all my vaunted _wisdom_ , it was him, not me, who realised first that we’d been wrong. He was the one who gave me a chance. And if there is _anything_ which has let me change from being that idiot girl who failed this trial, it’s him _forgiving_ me and letting me change!’ Her voice echoed around the chamber as she finished, the Guardian’s golden eyes still on her. When Scorpius’ hand brushed against hers, she realised how badly she was shaking. 

‘I had this plan, love,’ he muttered. ‘I was going to refuse to play the rigged game.’ 

‘Sorry,’ she whispered back. ‘You know I play by the rules.’ 

The Guardian kept staring. Then the light went out. She clutched Scorpius’ hand tight, until the next beam of blinding illumination gleamed, this one from the lord sat before the set of scales. ‘Justice,’ said the Guardian, and the light fell on Selena. 

Selena arched an eyebrow. ‘Is it my turn to laugh hysterically?’ 

‘Perhaps the most important of all virtues.The just man renders to each and all what is due to them,’ the Guardian said. 

‘And so you thought of me first. That makes _perfect_ sense.’ 

‘Without you,’ said the Guardian, ‘none of you would be here. Without your desire for justice.’ 

‘You’ll call it vengeance in a moment.’ 

‘Is that what you would name it? You wish for punishment to fall upon Prometheus Thane. Is it a due punishment?’ 

‘That’s surely a matter of opinion. Is he due having his limbs ripped off by raging yeti? Because I wouldn’t turn that down.’ 

‘You might wish to see it. But would you deem it fair?’ 

Her eyes flashed. ‘What,’ said Selena in a low, tight voice, ‘in this _world_ is fair?’ 

‘That is a question you have asked yourself for a long time, is it not? Longer than the death of Methuselah Jones.’ 

‘I don’t ask the question. I know the answer. Life _isn_ _’t_ fair.’ 

‘You were very young when you lost your father.’ 

‘I didn’t _lose_ him,’ said Selena. ‘”Lose” would imply accident. He left. And I was a very upset child, and then I grew up and realised I was better off without him after all. It’s not complicated. And I don’t see what it has to do with killing Prometheus Thane.’ 

‘You lost faith that good people receive goodness, and evil people receive evil. And so, for a time, you stopped caring.’ 

She rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, yes, let’s get back to judging our virtues based on who we were as stroppy fifteen year-olds.’ 

_As opposed to world-weary seventeen year-olds?_ Rose wondered bitterly. 

‘You can be judged only by the lives you have lived,’ said the Guardian. ‘Not the lives you _might_ live, or the handful of heartbeats you’ve had in this room. By what else are you to be judged?’ 

Selena folded her arms across her chest. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘Justice. Let’s talk about justice. What about what _you_ deserve?’ 

‘That is not -’ 

‘Let’s _make_ it the topic. Correct me if I’m wrong, I’m sure you will. The first of you came here with the Chalice, seeking to hide it away from your enemies. No necessarily _evil_ people, just political rivals, people who might _dare_ to use it in ways the _mighty Templars_ wouldn’t like. That’s a pretty chronic failure in wisdom and humility.’ 

‘The need was -’ 

‘I’m not done.’ Her eyes flashed. ‘So you came here, and decided to lock it away. You built this place so it would be hard to find physically, and then protected it so it would be hard to find magically. Except you didn’t do this alone, did you? You used the people here - the Taíno?’ She looked at Rose. 

‘Er, yes. Probably. It’s not like there are actually that many records on the people who lived here, Muggles or wizards,’ said Rose. 

‘Oh, no. Because history’s written by the winners, so why would we write about the strange foreign people who were in the way of our righteous little _crusade_? Only they had a use, didn’t they. What did you do to make them help build this place? Manipulation? Threatening? Outright compelling them?’ 

‘Ours was holy work,’ declared the Guardian. ‘We have locked away an item of great power from those who would misuse it. They were non-believers; it is no crime to compel them -’ 

‘Imperius it is!’ Selena snapped her fingers. ‘Perfect, isn’t it - it’s _named_ so perfectly. I’ve known smart people who would wax lyrical about the etymology there. Imperius, imperial. A Latin word, no less, from that most famous of European empires, so what better spell to be used by Europeans exerting their will over foreigners? Funny how none of our spells use names given to them by people like the Taíno.’ 

‘For their labour, they will find peace -’ 

‘A peace of _your_ beliefs, not theirs. Besides, they’re not finding peace, are they? Because you didn’t just use them, you _killed_ them and bound them here. Your slaves forever. So nobody could get at the little magic cup _you_ decided nobody else was allowed to get.’ She flipped her hair over her shoulder. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong. I’m not the scholar. I just listened to some smart people talk about all this. Maybe that makes me a hypocrite, that I sort-of knew all of this - I knew a whole load of my ancestors ran around the world being shitbags to other wizards, to Muggles - but I didn’t really think about it, really care. It wasn’t my problem. It’s only my problem now because those angry spirits really want to kill me. And maybe I don’t have the right to stand on my high horse about it.’ 

She stepped out of the circle of light, advancing on the altar, and the Guardian moved to block her way. ‘You will submit -’ 

‘I will _not_ ,’ she said, then she’d reached for her hip and drew the long, silvery shape of the Templar blade, which shimmered with its own ghostly hue in the kaleidoscope of lights. ‘I don’t have time for this, and I’ve never let anyone stand in judgement of me before. I’m not going to start now.’ 

‘The Chalice hovers between the world of the living and the world of the dead,’ said the Guardian. ‘You cannot touch it so long as it is bound there by magic. And it will be bound there by magic until judgement is passed.’ 

‘Even if we fail?’ asked Albus, eyes sweeping between Guardian and Chalice. 

‘If you fail,’ said the Guardian, ‘your deaths will seal it once again.’ 

‘Interesting,’ said Selena, eyebrow arching as she watched the wisping, ghostly shape before her. ‘And _all_ must be judged, you say?’ 

‘ _All_ -’ 

‘Then I find you unwise, for locking away an object of power through fear, not logic. I find you cowardly, for succumbing to that fear. I find you proud, because you thought only _you_ could use the Chalice. And above all, I find you to be murderous, unjust shitbags.’ 

If a ghost could look confused, the Guardian looked confused. ‘By the magic of this place I am not subject to judgement -’ 

Then the Templar sword was thrust through its chest. For one thudding heartbeat, the spirit looked down at the gleaming silver protruding from its front - then it seemed to stagger, its form flickering and losing coherent form, before it threw its head back. The stained glass windows all shattered at once, and Rose had to hunker down against Scorpius for protection against flying shards, clamp her hands over her ears against the cacophonous sound of them and of a dozen voices screaming in agony. 

Before they were suddenly silenced as the Guardian winked out of existence, and the light faded to the same gentle gloom of when they’d first come in. 

All was still for long, thudding heartbeats, the only sound their gasping for breath, until Selena lowered her sword. ‘Huh,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t sure that would work.’ And without another moment’s thought, she turned for the altar. 

Albus sprung forward, hand extended. ‘You don’t know for sure if -’ 

But it was too late. Selena’s free hand reached out for the altar and she picked up the Chalice of Emrys. 

And nothing happened. 

‘Ha!’ Selena punched the air with a Templar sword. ‘Suck it, ancient ghosts of dusty uselessness!’ She turned to them, brandishing the ancient artifact like she’d just won the Quidditch Cup. 

Scorpius laughed and clapped his hands together. ‘Nice one! Now let’s get out of here and see…’ 

But his words caught in his throat as realisation caught up with all of them at once, until Albus’s eyes widened and he broke the silence. ‘ _Lisa_.’ He whirled around for the door. 

Rose remembered the Guardian’s promise that some day he would know the real loss necessary to feel true fear, and silently she prayed that lesson would not come today. _The wise thing to do would be to tell him to wait, for us to prepare before we open that door_. Instead, she found her wand in her hand, found herself hurrying after him, Scorpius not a heartbeat behind her, Selena joining them. _Screw that, I can be a reckless Gryffindor sometimes_. 

Albus slammed his shoulder to the stone door and pushed. There was that same scrape of stone on stone, and through the gap came a gust of air more dead and stale than even before. It hit the back of her nostrils, almost making her gag, but came with no noise. No more shambling feet, or low moans, or even sounds of combat. Just absolute silence as Albus pulled the door wide open. 

_Oh, no._   
  
And Lisa, sat on the top of the steps, stood up. ‘That took you long enough!’ 

She was dishevelled, battered. Her good hand held her wand, but also clutched her left arm, which hung limp at her side. A cut across her temple oozed blood which had crusted along the side of her face, and her lip was split. But she was alone in the room, still upright, still alive. 

Albus fair flew across the distance ‘You’re all right?’ 

‘I hurt like hell,’ she said. ‘Did you get it?’ 

‘We got it - what about the spirits?’ His hand came to her good arm, and Rose could see his grip was tight, needy. 

‘Banished,’ said Lisa. ‘They took their chunks out of me, but it finished about five minutes ago. I told you I was the best wand-hand you have. Even if that is literally wand-hand, singular, right now.’ She gave a one-shouldered shrug, and Albus lifted his wand to her bad arm. His voice dropped, and Rose was hit with the sudden sense of being an interloper in a private moment. 

Scorpius was smirking when she turned to him. ‘So much for these defences,’ he said. 

Then the stone floor shook with a deep, bone-jarring rumble. ‘Oh, you _had_ to say that,’ snapped Selena. 

‘Hey! I’m not the one who broke the trial and _stabbed_ the Guardian! What the hell’s going on?’ 

Rose looked up, heart lunging into her throat. ‘I think we broke everything. That sword undoes enchantments; it’s possible you didn’t _trick_ the defences so much as… shattered them… and magic has to go somewhere.’ 

‘So now that magic’s ripping this place apart?’ Scorpius flinched at the next sound, an ear-splitting _crash_ from the passage that led the way they’d come, rock and rubble falling in the darkness beyond their sight. The rumbling did not stop. 

‘That sounded an _awful_ lot like us getting blocked in!’ Selena had to raise her voice to be heard. 

Rose looked up, gaze scanning the beads of light from the impossibly high ceiling of the chamber - except were they real? Was the moon bright enough, did they really reach the surface, or was this just an illusion? ‘Magic has to go somewhere!’ she repeated, and lifted her wand. Right then, the magics that had kept the Chalice hovering between the world of the living and the world of the dead, now broken and released, were trying to rip this place apart. But the air still crackled with the power, and it was on that she drew. 

‘You don’t conjure something out of _nothing_.’ Rope started to shoot out of the tip of her wand, the conjuration coming easier with the amount of power around her. ‘Someone start levitating this up; someone _else_ blast us a bloody hole through one of those gaps.’ 

Something rumbled overhead, and Scorpius yanked her to one side as masonry shattered, breaking from the cave wall, and exploded upon its landing only a couple of feet away. ‘Blasting,’ he gasped, ‘is something I can do.’ 

Energy shot out from the tip of his wand, and then there was _more_ rumbling around them, more falling chunks of rock. But it was greeted with the moonlight shining all the brighter, and Albus and Lisa stepped up to catapult the length of rope towards what they hoped and prayed wasn’t an illusion. 

‘You hold it up,’ Lisa said to him, ‘I’ll tether it -’ 

_Crunch_. Rose tried to not jump as the doorway to the room of trials cracked, then the entire arch collapsed. Sheets of rock off the cliff-face started to slide off, like paper that would crush them if they stood under it. But then the rope was secured to something up there, and she gave it a tug. ‘Go!’ 

She pushed Selena first, Selena who had the Chalice, which she thrust into her belt before starting to scramble up the rope. ‘If we get out of this!’ Selena yelled on her ascent, ‘I’m taking up bloody exercises!’ 

‘I’ve got to maintain this rope,’ Rose said through gritted teeth. ‘Guys, _go_.’ 

Albus gave Scorpius a firm shove, and turned to Lisa, again running his wand over her bad shoulder. Scorpius glowered at Albus, before his gaze locked on Rose, eyes blazing. But he didn’t say anything before bounding up the rope after Selena, and Rose felt something burst in her chest with relief when he didn’t argue. 

_You, at least, have to get out of here._

‘My shoulder’s going to slow me down,’ said Lisa once Scorpius was climbing. ‘You two should go first.’ 

‘ _I_ have to maintain this rope.’ Rose gritted her teeth. Conjured rope was about as real as actual rope, though the more it was strained, the more pressure was placed on it, the more it needed _some_ concentration from the wizard who’d produced it. ‘Albus, go.’ 

‘I’m not -’ 

‘Climb up,’ said Rose in a flat voice. ‘Then we’ll _tie_ this to us, and the three of you levitate the whole thing up, okay?’ 

Albus looked between the two, jaw tight - then he made a low, tense noise, and started to haul himself up the long, long climb. 

Lisa slunk next to Rose. ‘You should be climbing now. This whole cave might come down at any moment.’ 

‘Then you’d better _shield_ me,’ Rose pointed out. ‘I’m not leaving here until I’m sure you _can_ make it out.’ 

‘That’s crazy.’ 

‘Any more crazy than you waiting out here to banish a small army of spirits?’ But Albus had disappeared from sight, and so Rose grabbed the end of the rope, began to loop it around Lisa’s waist. ‘You should accept by now that we do crazy things together!’ 

Another crash, this one from higher up, and Lisa had to snap up her wand to block a chunk of rock that fell from the cave roof. Moonlight dimmed, the crumbling of stone starting to block out the holes to the surface, and Rose realised she didn’t have time to do anything but loop the rope around her left arm and give the cord several firm tugs. 

_I really hope they get that this is the signal._   
  
For a moment, nothing happened. The walls and floor around them shuddered, masonry crumbling, chunks of rock from the cave tumbling along the walls, hitting the ground with thudding shakes. It was like standing in the middle of a storm inside a mountain, and for a heartbeat Rose only knew the terror that they would be crushed down here, that the other three had _already_ been crushed by something higher up. 

Then the rope went taut and began to pull, and Rose’s sigh of relief was knocked from her lungs as she was yanked up. She could only hold on with one arm, though Lisa tried clutching at her as best she could, and up they went, rocketing off the ground, soaring towards the moonlight. 

_Crack_. The cave shattered around them, masonry and natural rock alike bursting outward under the damage of magical energy released in a destructive pulse. A chunk of rock fell into the rope above them, and though the rope held, the impact made them swing wildly from side to side as they were catapulted up. 

Lisa swore in a mixture of French and Arabic, kicking off the cave wall they swung near so they weren’t smeared against it - and Rose joined in the swearing as she looked up to see a chunk of rock falling straight down for them. Both wands snapped out in unison. Lisa’s blast shattered the rock into chunks; Rose’s shield deflected those chunks off them, but then the cave floor was lost far below and there was only the light, the _surface_ \- 

The sky was no longer moon and starlight, but held a faint orange glow as they burst out. Hands reached from the hole they’d blasted, grabbing both Rose and Lisa and hauling them onto the slope of green hillside. Dust and dirt burst with them, the rumbling underfoot enough to make the cliff itself shake. 

Selena was slumped on her back in the grass a distance from the mouth of the hole, Albus grabbed Lisa and they were not long after to fall down, gathering gasping, desperate breaths, and Rose all but fell into the arms of Scorpius, who had hauled her out through the hole. 

It was the same hill they’d jumped from the top of. The orange light of the gathering dawn clawed for the reaches of Cat Island that stretched before them, and as she clutched at Scorpius, the rumbling of the ground began to subside. Dust and dirt were kicked up from the mouth of the hole, but within agonising, exhausting gasps for breath, it calmed, and all was still. 

‘We should have dug our way in,’ Scorpius said in a wry voice once he’d caught his breath. 

But Selena had staggered to her feet almost right away, blinking at the east. ‘It’s dawn - how is it dawn?’ She wheeled around to face them, Chalice clutched in an iron grip. ‘We’ve got to get back. Rose, you’ve got to take us, right now.’ 

Rose felt Scorpius tense as he said, ‘She just got us out of there, give her a moment -’ 

‘It’s dawn!’ Selena snapped. ‘Matt doesn’t _have_ a moment!’ 

‘Do we want to be splinched -’ 

Rose grabbed his arm. ‘Gather up. She’s right. We’ve got to go.’ 

It was not easy to think through the throbbing exhaustion. But she had taken them from the cellar in Kythos, whisked them a further distance to an unknown place under more pressure. Even though her focus swam away from her, she could still clutch at Scorpius, clutch at her wand, and as they all gathered up, take them on a lurching, uncomfortable Apparition away from the hillside. 

And onto the deck of the ship. She’d compensated a little for her fatigue, so they appeared inches above the ground, landing with thumps and curses and a mutter of pain from a jolted Lisa. But they were there, miles in a heartbeat, racing back to be here in the nick of time - 

Except Nat Lockett stood on the deck, up against the railing, and had been staring at Cat Island. When they made their undignified arrival she turned, and something clenched inside Rose as she saw not an inch of shock, or surprise, or any emotion whatsoever on her face. 

Selena rallied first, knuckles white as she clutched the Chalice. ‘No…’ 

‘I’m sorry,’ said Nat, her voice like a sheer drop. ‘You’re too late. He died about an hour ago.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I discovered I couldn_ _’t write much about European ventures to the Americas without addressing the horrendous offences committed against the indigenous people, on different occasions and in different places. Even fleetingly. I’m not qualified to make sweeping comments, but a little research goes a long way, and on this occasion it went on the subject of the Taíno and other Arawak people. On the one hand, this is a fun little fanfic and I am in no position to go on a lengthy diatribe on the topic. On the other, it would be disrespectful to not acknowledge that the history on which this story is built is peppered with murder, genocide, slavery, and more._   
>    
> _Potterwise, there_ _’s mild conjuration headcanon from me, in terms of Rose saying she needs to concentrate even a little to maintain the rope, and the more pressure that’s placed on it, the more concentration she needs. Conjuration’s a sticky wicket in a society which clearly has an economy, so I can only conclude that conjuration has its limitations; these would make sense while not contradicting too much of what we already know from canon._


	49. Or Fordoes Me Quite

‘No,’ said Selena, and it took Rose a moment to realise this wasn’t a shocked declaration. Her voice was not hushed and horrified, but tense, firm. 

Lockett blinked. ‘I’m sorry. But there’s nothing to be done.’ 

‘Like hell there isn’t.’ Then Selena wasn’t standing on the deck in idle shock, but storming for the hatch leading below. 

Rose and Lockett exchanged bewildered glances and followed, Scorpius trailing behind. She heard Albus say something in hushed tones to Lisa, either a reminder of the quarantine or an insistence to see to her arm; either way it wasn’t her problem. 

‘I’m sorry,’ Lockett said again, striding behind Selena. ‘But he’s gone. Do you think I would _say_ this if I weren’t sure?’ 

‘I think that we’re way past an alcoholic potions-maker’s judgement on this one.’ Selena kicked the door to the lower decks open, and didn’t say another word until she’d burst into the hold that had been converted into Lockett’s laboratory and Matt’s bedroom. 

Rose froze in the doorway, heart lunging into her throat as she saw the bed. Lockett had pulled up a sheet, so she could only see a shape. It was so still that the white cloth might as well have been a statue carved of marble, every contour of fabric falling over the body chiselled to precision. Then Scorpius was beside her, and his hands clutched her shoulders so hard it would have hurt if she could feel it. 

‘You don’t need to be here,’ he whispered in her ear, breath warm and comforting and _alive -_ but he might as well have been a million miles away. 

‘Rourke.’ Lockett followed Selena to the bed. ‘He’s gone.’ 

Selena ignored her and yanked the sheet back. A hush fell as the whole room held its breath. Matthias Doyle’s body lay stiff, still, pale. Lockett had closed his eyes before covering the body, but his hair still fell messily into his face, and Rose wasn’t sure if which image she was having a harder time banishing from her mind: irritably reaching out to tidy it when he showed up to Prefects’ meetings dishevelled, or the still, ghostly form of Methuselah Jones lying in the crater in the Forbidden Forest. 

Lockett reached for her arm. ‘ _Selena_.’ 

‘Professor.’ When Rose found her voice, it sounded like it had been keel-hauled. ‘Let her try.’ 

‘ _Try_?’ 

Selena ignored them and grabbed the glass of water abandoned on the bedside table. Without ceremony she upended it in the Chalice of Emrys. ‘Drink, you bastard,’ she hissed, and brought the cup to Matt’s pale lips. Water trickled down his chin and her expression twisted as she tugged at his mouth, poured water in. ‘You’re not dying. You hear me? I _forbid_ it.’ 

Rose lifted her hand to grab Scorpius’ in an iron hold. Records said the Chalice could to this, but those were ancient reports, unconfirmed, and all of them spoke of the Chalice being used moments after death. Minutes. Not an hour. Scorpius’ fingers twitched under hers, the first hint of warmth as time slowed like oozing tar. 

Matt did not move. 

‘You’re going to wake up,’ Selena growled. Water spilt from his mouth, and she made a wordless noise of frustration. ‘You’re going to wake up and _explain_ that damned trial to us in excruciating bloody detail! Its historical relevance! You’re going to bore the hell out of all of us!’ 

Still he did not move, and she yanked the sheet back, lifted the Chalice. ‘You’re _not allowed_ to be dead!’ The anger in her voice was making way for a hysterical edge, and Rose’s grip on Scorpius’ hand tightened. Selena shook the Chalice over the body, letting the droplets of water fall upon his pale chest. ‘You _stupid_ , heroic _idiot,_ come _back_! I can bring _you_ back!’ 

And Matt choked. 

His body jerked like an electric charge had run through him, chest rising. He coughed, water streaming from his mouth, eyes snapping open, and within moments was sat up, sputtering, fighting for breath which came in rasping, gasping bursts. 

‘Son of a _bitch_.’ That was Scorpius, whose grip on Rose’s shoulder had tightened from shock, not fear or comfort. 

Lockett, eyes as wide as the portholes, flew to the other side of the bed, wand extended. ‘He was dead - _I was sure_ -’ 

Selena staggered back, pale, looking at last like the fear and grief had clawed past the anger. The Chalice fell from her hand to clatter on the deck. ‘It worked,’ she breathed. 

Matt coughed again, doubling over as Lockett ran her wand over him, but as his breathing slowed he lifted his head. ‘What - what happened? I was on the deck -’ 

‘His vitals are… fine?’ Lockett’s brow furrowed. ‘Heart rate normal, breathing normal, not a hint of necromantic energy in him - no Phlegethon, no Eridanos, not even any lingering magical effects from the Chalice…’ 

‘Chalice…’ Matt stared at her with bleary eyes. ‘Eridanos? What…’ 

‘You were dead.’ Selena’s voice had gone as hard as iron, and when Rose glanced to her, the mask had come back. ‘Eridanos. The Chalice brought you back.’ Then without another word she turned on her heel and stormed for the door, barely letting Rose and Scorpius get out of the way as she shoved past. 

‘Oh, good,’ Scorpius breathed as she left, audible only to Rose. ‘Nice to see death doesn’t change some things.’

* * 

‘You _found_ it?’ 

Scorpius marvelled at how he’d learnt to read astonishment in the body language of an otter. Especially when it was a shimmering, silvery otter hovering at the head of the table in the galley, summoned by the secure connection across the Atlantic Rose could establish with her mother. 

‘We did,’ said Albus. 

‘And it is so definitely the real Chalice,’ added Scorpius, ‘that it gives all other cups inferiority complexes.’ 

Hermione Granger’s patronus blinked. ‘Well done,’ was all she could say after a heartbeat. ‘You’re all fine? Unhurt?’ 

‘Now we are,’ said Rose, glancing at Matt. He was pale and worn but within the hour had been out of bed, walking, talking. He seemed dazed, bewildered, but Scorpius suspected that was a side-effect of neither the Chalice nor death, at least not in a physical manner. Coming back after being a corpse for an hour was enough to knock anyone for six. Or seven. Or a thousand. 

‘And there’s no sign of the Council of Thorns catching our trail after Brillig,’ said Albus. ‘If they know what’s happened there, if they realise why they’ve lost contact with Downing, there’s no sign they’re after us. I’d dare say we’re in the clear.’ 

‘Then you need to get home,’ said Hermione. ‘As soon as possible.’ 

Scorpius winced. ‘This ship will take a few days to get back -’ 

‘Leave it. Take a Portkey.’ 

‘I hate to sound petty but I _do_ have a deposit, and also, I’d rather not dump this -’ 

Lockett rolled her eyes. ‘Harley and I can take it back,’ she said. ‘We could do with the break. You kids should get home, and get the Chalice somewhere safe.’ 

Rose looked to her mother. ‘It takes a while to charge up an inter-continental Portkey. Especially one to Britain. _Especially_ off the books.’ 

Hermione’s patronus sighed. ‘It depends on if you want speed, or discretion.’ 

‘Let’s settle for discretion,’ said Albus. ‘It’s all very well and good for us to get the Chalice back to England, but the last thing I want is for the Council of Thorns to catch wind of what you’re up to and divert us.’ 

‘Won’t it be easier,’ said Matt, ‘to get us to somewhere like Venice by the end of the day? It’s the main hub of international and inter-continental travel in _Europe_. It should be easier to sneak an unmarked Portkey in and amongst that.’ 

‘True, though one in and one out in the same day is going to raise some eyebrows. Then again…’ Hermione paused. ‘I can probably have you in Venice by mid-afternoon local time, and then a Portkey to Britain the next morning.’ 

‘I’d rather not have an overnight stop,’ said Albus. 

‘Yes, but a Portkey from Andros Island _direct_ to Britain is going to be _very_ odd. There are no commercial Portkey links that way. It will raise eyebrows, and it probably wouldn’t be ready before tomorrow anyway.’ 

‘Which is a day where someone in the Department of Magical Transportation can leak its existence to the Council of Thorns,’ said Rose. ‘Travel in and out of Venice is going to be way harder to notice, and the more we move, the safer we are.’ 

Scorpius lifted his hands. ‘We are getting way too fussy,’ he said, and looked to Hermione. ‘Can you get us back through Venice in a secure manner?’ 

‘It’ll take around twenty-four hours to get you home, but it’ll be easier to hide it.’ 

‘Then the way I see it, we get a night in _Venice_. Without needing to worry about hunting the Chalice, or being hunted by the Council of Thorns. You know how this was meant to be a holiday, except that went tits up after the first night? I’ve got a novel idea.’ He grinned across the table. ‘Let’s have a _second_ night of holiday.’ 

Selena rolled her eyes. ‘Whatever. It gets us home.’ 

This was not the swell of enthusiasm he’d hoped for, but it would suffice. Hermione’s patronus nodded. ‘Return to Andros Island,’ she said. ‘And contact me then; I should have details for you to pick up transit from the Portkey office.’ 

Albus gave a relieved grin. ‘Thanks, Aunt Hermione.’ 

‘Don’t thank me. I’m just relieved you’ll all be coming home. And… good work. Really. All of you. Again.’ 

The patronus winked out of existence, and Albus got to his feet. ‘I’ll set us on a course. Guess we all better get some packing done.’ 

Scorpius leaned over to Rose as everyone started to filter out. ‘Toss my stuff in the bag?’ he asked, trying one of his hopeful, charming smiles. That didn’t win her over. Seeing him glance in Lockett’s direction did. Rose squeezed his arm and let him follow Lockett out of the galley into the sunshine, then up onto the quarterdeck. 

She looked less tired than she had when they’d got back to the ship. Scorpius was feeling the drain himself, the sleepless night - even if he’d lost hours and he didn’t know where or how - starting to pull at him, but their success was invigorating. He could only imagine what Matt’s recovery - resurrection - was doing for her. 

‘Professor?’ 

She’d stopped at the railing and glanced over her shoulder at his voice, shoulders sagging. ‘Scorpius - again, you don’t have to call me that.’ 

‘I don’t know what else to call you.’ He shoved his hands in his pockets and joined her. 

‘My friends call me Nat, you know.’ 

‘Calling an adult by their first name? I’m not sure I’m ready for that, yet.’ 

‘You _are_ an adult, Scorpius.’ 

‘I’m not sure I’m ready for _that_ , either.’ He gave a lopsided smirk. ‘But I’ll try it. Nat.’ 

‘I’m not your teacher any more,’ Lockett reminded him. ‘And I was a _terrible_ teacher.’ 

‘You got Hogwarts out of the Phlegethon crisis in one piece.’ 

‘I was a _passable_ guardian, and a world-class potioneer,’ she said without arrogance. ‘But I hated teaching. You kids were in the way of my important research. I should have been putting your education first. But I don’t have the patience for that, and I only took the job because I was even more desperate than Stubbs. No, I’m done with education.’ 

‘What’re you going to do next? Now Eridanos is beaten?’ 

‘We _think_ it’s beat.’ She planted her hands on the railing, gaze going to the ocean rushing by. ‘We’ll see. The Task Force’s work isn’t confirmed done.’ 

‘And then?’ 

‘You know, I might take a break.’ The corner of her mouth twitched. ‘Actually get married.’ 

‘If you need an Official Meddler at the ceremony, still, I can move some things around in my hectic schedule.’ 

She gave him a sidelong look. ‘You’d better.’ 

Scorpius grinned his first relaxed grin since before Brillig. ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’ Then he looked away, feelings swarming but the words refusing to come. ‘You know…’ But she didn’t psychically sense what he wanted to say, and kept her green eyes on him, calm, level, patient. He grimaced. ‘I had a terrible conversation with my mother.’ 

‘I’m sorry,’ said Lockett, sincere but obviously uncertain what she was supposed to say or do. 

Which was fine. She didn’t need to do anything but listen. ‘I realised I’ve been making her out to be the innocent victim and my father to be the absolute villain. When I suspect they’re both guilty. I mean, my father’s _worse_ , but it’s… grey and then darker grey. Not black and white.’ 

She put a hand on his arm. ‘You don’t need to feel beholden to them. You’re _not_ them.’ 

‘I know,’ he said. ‘But it’s taken a while for me to realise this. And, I mean, we’ve had this conversation before. About how Al believed in me, but he’s _Al_ , he’d probably give Prometheus Thane a chance if he thought there was a shred of good in him. But you… You pushed me. You gave me responsibilities. And then when I got myself in trouble, in danger, you didn’t _yell_ , you tried to help me, you congratulated me on a job well done, you… reminded me that we shouldn’t judge people based on what we hear or our first impressions.’ 

Her expression twisted. ‘I wasn’t trying to do that. I mean, it’s not like I set out to be this amazing mentor -’ 

‘You weren’t an _amazing_ mentor.’ Scorpius grimaced as the words came out wrong. ‘You were a human mentor. A real one. It’s hard not to feel like a screw-up when the Boy Who Lived or his sidekicks are telling you it gets better. What do they know, they’re heroes.’ 

Lockett raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you telling me I was inspiring because I’m a screw-up?’ 

Colour rushed to his cheeks. ‘I, erm, yes. But so am I. So you’re the inspiration I needed. And you’re my friend. And where my parents managed to be utterly shit, you… have… not been shit.’ 

He stared at her as if telling her she had ‘not been shit’ was the highest praise he could summon. To his horror, he saw tears pooling in her eyes - though this was still Nathalie Lockett, and a quick blink banished them. But before he could feel too relieved about that, she’d stepped over and was hugging him. 

‘You’re a good guy, Scorpius. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.’ 

He squeezed back. ‘And you’re a bloody hero, Nat. Whether you like it or not.’ 

‘Perhaps. But I think that after this you and I will settle for being regular people,’ she said as she pulled back. 

‘I don’t think you and I have _ever_ been regular people.’ 

‘Maybe not.’ She looked back to the oceans. ‘Are you going to see your mum before you leave?’ 

‘Yeah. I should. I mean, it’d be blatant if I didn’t. And it’s not like I hate her and want nothing more to do with her. She’s just not who I thought she was. And I don’t know who she is.’ 

‘She’s probably,’ she said in a low, measured voice, ‘a screw-up like you and me who could stand to have a chance.’ 

‘Perhaps,’ he conceded. ‘But in that case, so’s my father.’ 

‘Scorpius,’ said Nat Lockett, ‘so’s _everyone_.’

* * 

‘Who’s got it?’ asked Albus as they sat in their private waiting room in the Portkey office on Andros Island. Hermione had secured transport within a few hours, and while they were not thrilled about moving through the official links, there were only so many ways of travelling discreetly and swiftly. Venice saw hundreds of wizards and witches travelling through every single day. They could hide in the crowd much better than if they got an express Portkey right to the Ministry of Magic they _knew_ the Council of Thorns had compromised. 

Selena patted her bright pink, overstuffed carry-case. ‘If anyone wants it,’ she said, ‘they can feel free to go through my stuff to find it. Or, rather, they can piss off and not snoop in my knickers.’ 

Albus just looked at her for a moment, then nodded. ‘You’re the person with the most right to carry it.’ 

‘And the last anyone would expect.’ 

Rose looked from them, to where Matt was staring at his hand, to where Lisa was staring at the wall, to the door through which Scorpius had _still_ not appeared. She sighed, wishing she’d stayed behind for his last conversation with his mother. Even though she knew it was best they talked alone. 

‘So,’ said Matt, his first word in about an hour. ‘I’ve got, er, a lot of questions.’ 

‘I imagine they start with, “what the hell?”’ said Selena. 

‘Pretty much.’ He grimaced. ‘Correct me if I’ve got any of this wrong. The Templars brought the Chalice to Cat Island and hid it there. To hide it, they enslaved and then murdered a large swathe of the indigenous wizarding and Muggle populace, so they could physically build the place and then magically bind it.’ 

‘So far as I followed it,’ said Rose. 

‘Then a few centuries later, de Valverde found it. And though he and his men passed the trials, they decided it was a mistake to bring the Chalice back into the world. So they then sacrificed themselves to re-establish the magics protecting the place.’ 

‘Seems so.’ 

‘Whereas _you_ guys… _destroyed_ the spirits of the Taíno that had been trapped there.’ 

‘Banished,’ said Lisa, her first word also in hours. 

‘What’s the difference?’ said Selena. 

‘You _can_ destroy spirits, ghosts. It’s just not easy. I made them… move on.’ 

‘The magic protecting the Chalice wouldn’t come down until the trial was over, one way or another, and you turned it on its head by judging the _Guardian_ spirit and then… destroying it with the sword. Which stopped the Chalice from being locked between worlds. But the magics were released and, being so uncontrolled, started to rip the place apart?’ 

‘They weren’t bad defences,’ said Rose. ‘We were lucky we had a Templar blade. We were lucky to bring down the spirits.’ 

‘Unlucky for them,’ said Lisa, ‘we know an awful lot more about binding and banishing spirits in this day and age than we did three hundred or six hundred years ago. It wasn’t difficult.’ 

She sounded cold, detached, and Rose wondered when she’d studied necromancy to that kind of specialised extent - then realised she didn’t care. It was over. It didn’t matter. Yet one more mystery from Lisa Delacroix was not going to keep her awake at night. 

‘I think they were arrogant,’ said Selena. ‘They thought anyone who looked for the Chalice and got that far would be like them. _They_ would never try to avoid a test of their virtues, because they were so arrogant they were convinced they’d _pass_. So they didn’t protect their trials against their own swords, and they expected people to play by the rules.’ 

‘When you kicked straight through them,’ said Rose with a small smile. 

She shrugged. ‘There aren’t many people in the world who get to judge me. A spirit made up of a bunch of murderous old dead guys really isn’t top of the list.’ 

‘And still.’ Albus was frowning. ‘I wonder if we passed.’ 

‘You shouldn’t _care_ , Al,’ Selena told him. ‘Scorpius was right, that was rigged. It wasn’t about testing us, it was about them getting to posture and stand in judgement and remain important when they were centuries-old _murderers_. They can dress it up all they like in the “four virtues” bullshit, but who the hell are they to get to decide if we’re good guys or not?’ 

‘I know,’ he sighed. ‘It just bugs me.’ 

‘It shouldn’t,’ Rose agreed, but before she could offer more reassurance, the door swung open and in stepped a rather wan-faced Scorpius. 

‘Hey,’ he muttered. ‘Sorry I took so long.’ 

But then Rose was on her feet, and didn’t bother being discreet when she crossed the room to tug him back out into the corridor. Random passersby were better intrusions to their privacy than four pairs of watching, occasionally jealous eyes. ‘Hey - are you okay?’ 

He grabbed her hand, but seemed more tired than desperate. There was not the furtive, cowering hint about him she’d seen when he came to her after the first bad conversation with Astoria. ‘Yeah. Yes. We didn’t talk much. I just said I was done here, that we’d be going…’ 

She slid her hands up his arms, linked her fingers behind his neck. ‘You don’t owe her anything. You’ve got the right to look to yourself first.’ 

‘I said we’d talk soon. And we will. I want to talk to my father - I never thought I’d say _that_.’ Scorpius rolled his eyes. ‘I want to figure this out better, take some time, get some facts. Then I’ll talk to her again. I think I have to just… rebuild a whole load of relationships from the ground up. For what they _are_ , not for what I’m afraid they are or want them to be.’ 

Rose hesitated. ‘Your father is still an arse.’ 

‘He is,’ Scorpius agreed. ‘I’m not going back to him. But I’d rather I hate him because of what he _has_ done to me. Not what I’ve conjured up that he’s done. Or how do I get past it if I turn him into this monstrous, all-encompassing… thing? How do I get past what _she_ _’s_ done to me if I’m not identifying it properly?’ 

A smile tugged at her lips, hopeful but sad. ‘That’s an awfully sensible way of looking at it.’ 

‘Yeah, well.’ He returned the smile, more settled. ‘I’ve had you to be sensible at me. Even when you were picking fights, you were… kind of right. I’d rather be angry at the truth than the fiction. It can be complicated and _still_ bad. He can be an arse and still not a monster. I just want to know the truth.’ 

‘And whatever that takes, whatever you have to do, I will be here with you. Each step. Every time.’ 

That brought something new and apprehensive to his gaze. ‘I wrote to him. That’s why it took so long, I sent a note…’ 

‘A note?’ 

‘I wanted to get things down fresh after talking to Mum, before I chickened out. It was nothing too specific, I just let him know I’d spoken to her, that we’d had a very frank talk and that I’ll want to talk to him when we get back.’ His eyes dragged across her face. ‘You seem tense.’ 

‘No, no.’ Rose shook her head. ‘It’s silly. I’m sure you were careful. But how did you send it?’ 

He gave a reassuring smile. ‘From Harley to Rigby. Don’t worry.’ 

‘I’m sorry. I should have known you wouldn’t be an idiot.’ 

The smile widened. ‘What you said in the trial… you know, I have no idea how you can think that about me.’ 

‘What, that you’re a good guy who doesn’t see it in himself?’ She tilted her head up to brush her nose against his. ‘If you saw it, you wouldn’t be you. I just wish you saw it a little _more_.’ 

‘I don’t think, “it’s time to be a dashing hero”. I just do what I can, because I have to. And even that sounds too self-indulgent - I mean, like with Thane and the Stone. I only signed up for that because I had the idea of using Harley’s guys to get around the contract.’ 

‘Which didn’t guarantee you’d get through unscathed.’ 

Something hardened in his eyes. ‘You almost died. We were already unscathed. So what right did I have to fuss about my own hide?’ 

Rose was so used to twists and upsets in her heart, her gut, her throat, with the rises and falls of the day that it took her a moment to realise the next surge in her was a wave of affection. Desperate to banish the tension, she kissed him. ‘I know a lot about heroes. I grew up with them. I know them when I see them. And you might think you’re “just a guy”, but Harry Potter’s “just a guy”. So’s my father.’ Her nose wrinkled. ‘I’m less sure my mother is “just” anything, I grant you.’ 

‘I think there’s enough credit to go around. I did nothing today.’ 

‘I’m not calling you the centre of everything. I’m saying you can take pride in what you’ve done. You don’t have to puff up like a peacock.’ She paused. ‘Please don’t, in fact.’ 

He chuckled and let her go, glancing to the door. ‘We should probably get back to the waiting room. Rather than lurking out here.’ 

She made a face but nodded and took his hand. ‘Else they’ll think we’ve snuck off to be all sordid in a broom closet.’ 

The door swung open and the apologetic, awkward face of Matt looked out at them. ‘Actually, we were hoping you’d gone for sandwiches.’ 

Scorpius frowned at him. ‘Were you listening?’ She recognised the tension his eyes, then saw him smother it. It had to be awkward, Rose reasoned - he had every right to be furious at Matt, and yet he’d feel guilty about it. 

‘No!’ Matt lifted his hands, then slid into the corridor and shut the door behind him. ‘I was just coming to check up. If I was interrupting, just say.’ 

‘You weren’t,’ said Rose, shifting her weight. ‘Are you - how are you feeling?’ 

He ran a hand through messy hair. ‘It’s a little like I felt after Phlegethon. But I was only out a few days, so I feel… kind of weak, but like some good sleep and exercise and a good meal will do me a world of good. I’m not going to lie, I have absolutely _no_ concept of anything between passing out on the deck and waking up to find Selena shaking water all over me.’ 

‘So you can’t tell us what it’s like to be dead.’ Scorpius let go of Rose’s hand to fold his arms across his chest, obviously settling on being grumpy. 

‘There was no light fantastic. No pearly gates. No ferryman. At least, not for me.’ Matt shrugged. ‘Maybe I wasn’t gone long enough. I’m not the first person to be dead for only a brief period, and no, I’m not talking about Harry Potter.’ 

‘Yes,’ said Rose, ‘but that usually only lasts seconds, minutes. Not an hour.’ 

‘I don’t know. I don’t think there are, er, rules on coming back from the dead.’ He shook his head. ‘Damn, it’s weird to say that. I feel like I was unconscious and then woke up. If you didn’t tell me, I really wouldn’t know. I’m… pretty comfortable acting like I was only unconscious.’ 

‘We’re just glad you’re back,’ said Rose. 

‘Yeah.’ Scorpius grunted, but his jerking nod was sincere. ‘Like I was saying. You saved our arses on Brillig. Which, well. I guess means I don’t get to punch you.’ 

Matt winced and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘That makes this a little easier. I was hoping to talk to - just Rose, I mean, but if you know… look, I’m sorry. To both of you.’ 

Scorpius stared at him for a long moment, then let out an unsteady breath. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I get you’re saying that. And I get that now is not the time for us to fight. And I really _am_ glad you’re not dead. But I am _so_ not at a point of talking about this. So I’m going to let you two talk, and I’m okay with this because I trust _her_ , but you?’ He jabbed a finger at Matt. ‘Try to not kiss my girlfriend. Again.’ 

He gave Rose a sideways look before he slunk through the door into the waiting room, and she found her throat abruptly dry once it was her and Matt stood in the gloomy corridor. It wasn’t the most discreet place to stand, but there was going to be nowhere more private, and to fob him off now meant she’d just have to tackle this later. 

Matt kept rubbing the back of his neck. He had moved out of Scorpius’ way, but was staring at her feet, rather than her. ‘I did already apologise. I mean, then. And now.’ 

She wrapped her arms around herself. ‘You did.’ There was another pause. ‘I’m really glad you’re not dead. I mean - that sounds pretty obvious.’ 

‘It does. But it doesn’t hurt to hear it.’ He winced. ‘I didn’t go to help you on Brillig because I thought you’d fall into my arms, or something. But I can’t deny I was driven _more_ to do it because it was… you.’ 

‘I can understand that. I was… I don’t mean to be cruel. But hunting the Chalice wouldn’t have been the same for me if it had been Lisa’s life on the line, or Lockett’s. I know you said you were lying in Monte Carlo, but you were right. We shouldn’t act like our past didn’t happen, or didn’t matter. But it _is_ the past.’ 

‘It is. I _know_ it is. I knew it was when I - yeah. But I can’t just snap my fingers and change how I feel.’ 

‘You can’t,’ said Rose. ‘But you can snap your fingers and change how you _act_. Look at me.’ He lifted his head, pale and bleary-eyed but sincere, and her voice grew firm. ‘You will _never_ do that again. I am not here so you can _use_ me to deal with your own feelings. If you want to talk - it sounds crazy but if it helps you, I will listen. But you will respect my wishes, and my relationship, or we are _so_ done, Matt, even as friends.’ 

‘I know -’ 

‘Scorpius and I are together. That is not going to change. I love him. He loves me. He listens to me, he respects me, and there are ups and downs but this relationship is not going anywhere. And you are just going to have to deal with it.’ 

He dropped his gaze - then lifted it again hurriedly, guiltily, and gave a small nod. ‘I understand.’ 

‘Now.’ She drew an unsteady breath. ‘Am I going to be a horrible bitch if I ask if I can hug you?’ 

He smiled at last, an exhausted but pleased smile that crinkled the corners of his grey eyes. ‘I’m pretty sure I can take it in the spirit it’s intended -’ 

But then she’d closed the distance to wrap her arms around him, face pressed against his shoulder where there still hung around him the scent of the timber of the ship, the fumes of Lockett’s concoctions. The memories these smells conjured were comforting one moment, tense the next, which she supposed was about right for how hugging her ex-boyfriend should feel. ‘I thought you were gone.’ 

Matt put his hands to her shoulders, his only response other than a gentle squeeze, which she thought was judicious. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t force you to be Saxby’s partner in Potions next year.’ 

The idea of Potions class, of school and lessons and _normalcy_ at Hogwarts, was almost enough to stagger her. She pulled back, managing a small smile. ‘Or doing prefect patrols with Willoughby.’ 

‘Please, Professor Longbottom would totally give the badge to John. I’d _hope_.’ 

Her smile widened, some sense of balance creeping back in, but she glanced to the door. ‘We should get back in. The Portkey can’t be much longer, and then we’ll be home.’ 

‘Soon enough,’ said Matt, and nodded. Tension had left his shoulders, leaving him more relaxed, normal. ‘But, first? We get to see Venice, like you promised.’


	50. In the Pale Moonlight

Even though the sun was low in the sky, hidden behind the city’s sloped rooftops, the air was hued a gold that painted the walls and rippled across the waters of the canals. It was a warm evening, less sticky than when they’d arrived that afternoon. After the temperatures in the Caribbean in May, Selena found it a relief. 

They were booked into one of the fancier magical hotels Scorpius could get away with at short notice. Dinner had been a sumptuous, satisfying affair. Then everyone had gone their separate ways, leaving Selena to sit _en terrace_ in Venice at sunset with a glass of delectable Pinot Grigio. It was the sort of thing their holiday was supposed to be about. Except she’d never, when she imagined _actually_ being on holiday, been alone. 

Then again, she was the one who’d derailed them to Badenheim. Perhaps this was what she deserved. 

‘Were you going to drink that bottle by yourself?’ 

She looked across the terrace of metal tables and chairs so small they’d made dinner outside an affair of furniture and elbows shoved together but which the continent seemed to adore. Hardly anybody was out here this time of an evening. The hotel was in the eastern part of the city, but one didn’t have to go far from these quiet bridges and paths to get to the bustling heart of Venice at night. She’d wanted to see it, but doing that alone was perhaps more depressing even than drinking alone. 

But this interruption was not an improvement. She lifted the cool wine glass. ‘So what if I am?’ 

‘I’m not judging,’ said Matt. Colour had been returning to his cheeks all day, and while he looked pale, he was steady on his feet, as if coming out the other side of an illness. Rather than the other side of death. ‘I was wondering if I could help you polish it off.’ 

Her eyes dragged across him, beady and assessing and uncertain. Then she waved a hand at one of the nearby serving staff. Italian or not, people in this profession understood certain universal signals when an imperious twist of the wrist was included. ‘If you even have a grasp of good wine.’ 

‘Yes,’ said Matt, and pulled up a chair. ‘I’m seventeen, so I’m a connoisseur of fine wines. Like you.’ 

She tilted her nose in the air. ‘I know what tastes good.’ 

‘You asked for the house white, didn’t you.’ 

‘We’re abroad. It’s cultural exploration.’ 

‘Well, pour me a glass of some of that cultural exploration,’ he said with a grin as the second glass was delivered. 

‘You come over here, demand a drink, demand the _lady_ pours…’ He reached for the bottle at her indignation, but she smacked his hand away. ‘Oh, don’t, you’ll pour it like it’s Butterbeer and that’ll be tragic.’ 

‘Sorry,’ said Matt, not sorry at all. ‘We don’t all get your classy upbringing.’ 

‘Your mother is the Head of the Office of Legal Affairs and your father an internationally acclaimed businessman. I’m sure they have a grasp of culture.’ 

‘They do. It just didn’t extend to educatingme on underage drinking. That remained the purview of Hedley and Willoughby.’ 

Selena wrinkled her noise. ‘They are such distasteful boys.’ 

‘Apparently Gryffindor House has a talent for producing rascals with suspiciously close bonds.’ He sipped the wine. ‘They’re good guys, but I prefer to stay out of their line of fire. And so long as Hestia Kirke’s the biggest fusspot in the school, I will remain safe.’ 

‘Oh, Kirke.’ She shook her head. ‘The woman who makes Rose Weasley at her most uptight look laid-back and open-minded. Can you imagine how this holiday would have gone if they’d brought her instead of you and me?’ 

‘It would have probably contained one hundred percent less death, dark wizards, and international hunts for ancient artifacts.’ 

‘I know. How boring.’ Selena sipped her wine to hide her expression. No, she didn’t know anything about good wine but she’d wanted something cold and refreshing and figured that when in Rome… or, at least, when in Venice. 

Matt’s voice dropped. When she looked at him, his face was less wry, more serious. ‘I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.’ 

Her gaze went back to her drink, which she swirled in the glass. ‘You could have died.’ 

‘So could you.’ 

‘You _did_ die.’ 

‘I got better.’ He looked down. ‘I’m sorry.’ 

Selena’s brow furrowed. ‘What for? Wait, no you’re not. There’s not a thing you did that you wouldn’t do again. Chasing after us on Brillig. Charging after _Rose_ single-handedly. Jumping on a dragon.’ 

‘That’s true.’ Matt paused. ‘But I’ve upset you, and for that, I’m sorry.’ 

‘Except you don’t know what you did.’ 

‘I -’ Another hesitation. ‘No.’ 

‘Then how can you be sorry?’ 

He straightened an inch. ‘All right. You could, I don’t know. Tell me?’ 

‘I don’t owe you that.’ She drained her wine and stood so quickly her chair scraped on the paving stones. ‘I can feel whatever I like, thank you so very much.’ 

Matt stood too, his shoulders squaring. ‘I’m not denying that! But since Tomar you’ve been avoiding me, and I gave you the distance, but tomorrow this is all _over_! I thought we should talk before then, and I wondered if…’ 

_You wondered if I_ _’d soften after that little incident of you dying._ ‘Yes. Tomorrow this is all over. And we can go back to seeing each other as absolutely _not at all_ as we ever did before this. Enjoy the rest of the wine.’ 

‘Selena, please!’ 

But she turned on her heel and stalked off, back towards the hotel. It would all be over soon, and she could go back to how things were before - with the added satisfaction of thwarting Prometheus Thane. So he hadn’t been brought to justice, but her hunt for vengeance had dissipated early on in the hunt for the Chalice. Denying him his prize would have to do for bringing her a measure of peace. She could go home, feel satisfied that _some_ sort of blow had been struck on behalf of Methuselah, go back to… 

To what? Tea with Miranda and Abena and maybe now the odd, judgemental lunch with Rose; back to spending time with people she could steer around or who never asked the questions she needed to dodge in the first place? 

She was back in the hotel lobby by now, a palace of polished marble and flagstones which sounded out her heeled footsteps like gunshots. If Matt had come after her she would have heard him, but there was no answer to the beats of her escape save its own echo. He had not followed. Because she had made it clear she wouldn’t tolerate him pressing the issue. And this time he hadn’t chased, hadn’t grabbed her. After everything, he’d listened. And he’d let her go. 

Selena drew a sharp breath between clenched teeth. ‘Shit,’ she hissed. And turned around. 

He was still sat in the fading gold of the Venetian dusk, refilling his glass and letting the wine swirl around as he glowered at the canal, as if the city was responsible for all the burdens that remained upon them. He wasn’t looking her way, so she kept her footsteps light as she padded across the terrace, back to the chair she’d abandoned. 

‘When the ritual to stop Phlegethon finished,’ she said, and he jumped at her voice, grey eyes locking onto her with bewilderment. ‘There was a shockwave which made me, at least, black out for a few seconds. Maybe more. When I came to, the sun was shining, and the ritual site was a crater. 

‘I’d seen someone go into the middle. I’d seen the Patronus. I’d seen it was an eagle. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t know _exactly_ what it was. But I didn’t let myself think it. So I got to run down that crater, stumbling and panicking, and find, lying at the middle, the body of the man I loved.’ He opened his mouth to answer, so she pressed on because if she stopped, she wasn’t sure she’d finish. ‘So when I stood in a crater in Tomar and couldn’t see you, everything was eerily familiar.’ 

His eyes widened with a flash of panic and uncertainty, and she frowned, because she’d expected pity or reassurance, not - 

Then she replayed her words and her hands slammed on the table. ‘Oh, no, no, no - I didn’t mean -’ 

‘You -’ He half-rose like he’d been staggered too badly to sit. 

‘I don’t love you! No! That’s not what I meant!’ Despite herself, she grabbed the lapel of his jacket. ‘I mean it. Not in the slightest. Not even a little bit.’ 

‘Selena, you’re important to me but I don’t -’ 

‘Matt, I don’t need a “let her down gently” speech!’ There weren’t many people sat outside this hotel, but with her stalking off and coming back, and now shaking him by his jacket, they were getting a few curious looks. She let go and sat down again, eyes blazing as they locked onto him. ‘But I didn’t know how to - I thought you were dead and I didn’t know how to watch someone else I care about die.’ 

He sank onto the chair, looking bashful. ‘Oh.’ 

‘Yeah. “Oh”. And, I mean, you’ve helped me a lot. Listened to me. Supported me. I didn’t… want to lose you.’ 

Now his expression softened in that sympathetic way she’d expected. ‘So you pushed me away. So you protected yourself. So it would hurt less if something happened to me.’ 

She swallowed hard. ‘Not just in case something happened.’ 

His grey eyes were on her, studying every curve and line of her face as if trying to commit it to memory. ‘The world won’t end if you care about people, Selena -’ 

‘You kissed Rose.’ 

Matt blinked, then guilt filled his gaze. ‘Yeah.’ 

‘You told her you loved her.’ 

He winced. ‘Yes.’ 

‘I knew you did. I knew it’s what you wanted to say. I knew you’d even _do_ it, despite Ager Sanguinis; that you’d have to get it off your stupid chest even if she’s never going to leave Scorpius and you’d only be doing it to assuage your desperately-important man-pain. And I knew it would _eventually_ help, because then you’d have it hammered into your stupid thick skull that she doesn’t love you, even though I’ve been telling you that for _weeks_.’ The words came in a tumble, sharp as hurled knives, because even though she’d come back, she’d not intended to say _this_. ‘So why the _hell_ throw myself into a situation like that?’ 

His eyebrows raised. ‘Is _that_ part of why you avoided me? Because I ignored you?’ 

‘Because who wants to be up close and watching you _break_ yourself no matter what I say, or watch someone mope over someone they can’t have?’ 

‘Unlike -’ But he snapped his jaw shut around the words before they could escape. 

Even if she knew what they were. _Unlike your moping over Methuselah._ She’d seen the dragon fall in Tomar, and her heart had tightened into something tiny, terrified, and _familiar_. And then she’d seen the look in Matt’s eyes when he’d emerged from the dust and looked, above all, at _Rose_. Not to mention that look in Rose’s eyes, the echo of a memory which was fading, but not yet gone. 

She reached for the wine. ‘You can call me a hypocrite all you like. I know I started this. I know I dragged us into danger and death. So you can call me a fool for helping an idiot in love and then running when it got messy. You can call me a fool for taking us to a fight and then running when it got dangerous. I don’t care. You wanted an explanation. That’s the explanation. I didn’t come back to beg you to understand. I came back because…’ She paused, sipped the wine, chewed on the words and above all did not look at him. ‘Because you listened when I asked you for space, so it wasn’t fair to not come back some day.’ 

Matt shifted his weight, voice hoarse and uncertain. ‘Selena -’ 

‘Because I refused to talk to your dying, unconscious body, because I preferred to use the time to _save_ you, not be melodramatic and say things you couldn’t hear, and who the _hell_ does that without then talking when they get lucky enough to have the chance?’ She blinked and put the wine glass down harder than she intended. 

‘Is that why I woke up with you shaking the Chalice of Emrys at me and shouting abuse until I stopped being dead?’ 

‘What can I say?’ Her throat tightened. ‘I get what I want.’ _Usually_ , she thought, remembering a cold room in the Hogwarts dungeons. 

He saw the flicker, though, and his hand caught hers as she put her glass down. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again. ‘No, I wouldn’t change what I’ve done. But you are the last person who needs more hurt, and I’m sorry that I contributed to that in any way. I stuck with this expedition to do good.’ 

She gave an irritable snort. ‘What were you supposed to do? _Not_ destroy the dragon-golem before it killed people?’ 

A hint of amusement tugged at his lips. ‘I hear _you_ flipped off a several hundred year-old ghost of a Templar and took it to task for mass genocide and being judgemental.’ 

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Albus talks too much. And it was an amalgamation of several ghosts, thank you so very much.’ 

Now he smiled properly. ‘I wish I’d seen it.’ 

‘You would have been _fascinated_ by its historical relevance.’ Her gaze fell to where his hand still covered hers, and her fingers twitched. ‘I don’t… we’ve done what we came to do and I thought it would make everything better.’ 

His thumb rubbed the inside of her palm in a way she found unsettlingly distracting. ‘Nothing makes things better overnight.’ 

‘How about over a weeks-long expedition?’ Her jaw tightened. ‘I thought that if I came home, I’d come home with peace. But you’re right. There’s no miracle cure. I can’t just piss off the Council of Thorns and suddenly the memory of Methuselah will stop hurting. I can get up in the morning and not feel like I’m betraying his memory just by _breathing_ , but it’s not - it hurts _._ ’ She looked away. ‘And you’re not going to get over Rose just because she shot you down.’ 

‘…if it helps any, my head feels clearer for it. Like it burnt away all the whispers of denial clogging up… yeah.’ He was frowning at their linked hands when she looked back. ‘I’m sorry if you think I’ve not listened to you.’ 

She swallowed. ‘I’m sorry I ran.’ But leaving it at that would have been running, so she drew a slow, careful breath. ‘We’re back in Britain tomorrow.’ 

When she lifted her gaze, she found him looking at her. ‘But tonight we’re in Venice.’ 

‘Tonight we’re sat being maudlin over a bottle of wine.’ 

He glanced to the street, the canal, the nearby bridges. ‘It’s not even night yet. We could go for a walk. See the city. It’s not like we need to do anything tomorrow except get up in time for a Portkey.’ 

Enthusiasm and guilt swam in front of her, that familiar cocktail which sprung up whenever she dared be excited by something new, then remembered she was seeing it without Methuselah - and what right did she have to be happy about anything when he was dead? ‘I don’t know anything _about_ this city, or anywhere in it. I just know it’s got no roads. And boats.’ 

‘Gondolas,’ he said with that self-effacingly knowledgeable air of his, like he knew he came across as a nerd and was only a _little_ sheepish about this. ‘And I’ve, uh, shockingly, read some books. I could - there are things I’ve read about we could see…’ 

The cocktail got a good shaking, and ice on top. ‘It would be a waste of one night in Venice to _not_ , I suppose,’ she said, and couldn’t keep the wry, dismissive tone from her voice. Even if she didn’t mean it. 

But she saw it hit him, and he gave a one-shouldered shrug. ‘It would. So, hey, I can play tour guide and I’ll try to spare you the boring bits.’ He pulled his hand back and she was suddenly cold. She knew it wasn’t because the sun was going down, and the inches started to drag between them, turning to yards, miles, light-years. 

Reaching to grab his hand back came with a feeling inside her like she’d wrenched something. It hurt, but it hurt like massaging a strained muscle hurt, a satisfying sort of pain, and once she’d moved she couldn’t help but clutch tight enough to make him stare at her with wide, bewildered eyes. 

‘And maybe,’ she said, her voice no longer dismissive, but a lot more scared and small than she liked, ‘when we’re back in Britain you could play tour guide on some places. Or maybe I’ll play tour guide on some tea shops. Or - or -’ 

He looked so confused for a heartbeat that her heart surged around in her chest with a panic that was so devoid of earth-shattering grief she would have welcomed it if it weren’t so raw in and of itself. She’d misjudged this, she knew - she’d pushed him too far, they should just go home and return to their separate lives, and she began to tug her hand away - 

Then he caught her hand in both of his, and the corners of his eyes crinkled with pain even though his smile was sincere. ‘I want to get over Rose.’ 

‘And I want to stop being haunted by Methuselah,’ she whispered. ‘And you are one of the few people in the world who makes me feel like that’s even _possible_. So how about we have a nice night in Venice, and then come back home and be heroes, and then let’s do the crazy thing and make plans like friends do.’ 

_Friends_ was a word which sat clunky on the tongue, even though she wasn’t lying, and it was made clunkier by his fingertips grazing along her knuckles, the back of her hand, round to the inside of her wrist. His touch was like a thumb on a pressure point, a tingling sensation she knew could turn to discomfort or even pain with just the wrong move - and yet she couldn’t pull away. 

When he spoke, his voice was a strange mixture of hoarse and gentle, encouraging and apprehensive. ‘Have you ever heard of the Rialto Bridge?’ 

It was not the answer she’d expected, though it was probably the only sort of answer he could give which wasn’t hurtling down a path to greater madness. Because ‘friends’ was a clunky word, and yet the right word, and the only word which mattered when breathing could sent her into spasms of guilt and a look between Rose and Scorpius could send him into the blackest mood. 

And nobody could say with any certainty what came when those walls fell. 

She arched an eyebrow. ‘I _just_ said I don’t know anything about this city, Doyle.’ 

His smile was bashful but delighted, the pain fading from his eyes. ‘Then I think we should rectify this - we _are_ in one of the most integrated magical cities in the world, after all, and what was once the beating heart of magical travel, commerce, and diplomacy in Europe…’ 

Selena rolled her eyes as they stood. ‘You know, you said you’d cut the boring bits.’ 

‘But _some_ boring bits are necessary to understand the really cool parts,’ he said, leading her towards the street and the bridges and the lights of Venice at night, and he did not let go of her hand.

* * 

‘I needed this,’ Rose groaned, stretching across the bed and feeling the satisfying aches and muscle-twinges as she did so. 

Scorpius smirked, his fingers playing along the length of her bare back, lounged on his side next to her. ‘ _Always_ happy to help.’ 

She smacked his arm, though their legs were still entangled with each other and the bedsheets and it was hard to deliver much punishment beyond that. ‘I _meant_ a night off. One last night before we go back.’ 

‘Yeah?’ 

‘Tomorrow we march back to Britain with the Chalice. There’ll be fuss with the Ministry, with the IMC, probably the press, probably eventually the Council of Thorns coming to murder us in our sleep…’ She sighed and rested her head on his arm. ‘But that’s tomorrow. Tonight we can have one night which feels like a holiday. Just the one.’ 

‘ _Technically_ we had one night in Badenheim before everything went wrong. Even if it was slightly sour camping and Doyle being a cockblocking bastard.’ 

She snorted. ‘Then we should make the most of this night in _Venice_ , in a fancy hotel. You know, I did want to see some of the city? I’ve never been here before and we went right from the Portkey Office to the hotel to dinner to… the bedroom.’ 

Scorpius leaned in to brush his nose against hers, tousled blond hair tumbled into his eyes, dishevelled and the epitome of smugness. ‘I thought I _was_ making the most of this night in a fancy hotel. I didn’t hear any protests.’ 

‘Well, _no_ , but it’s a wasted opportunity.’ 

‘This whole holiday has been a wasted opportunity if you wanted to see the world at anything other than wand-point. So we’ll just have to do another one.’ His smile turned less smug. ‘You and me. We can see all those places you wanted to see before this trip got derailed. And I promise I’ll pay attention when you want to get all excited and nerdy about it.’ 

She gave him another smack on the arm, and he rolled onto his back, laughing. ‘That’s a great idea, but it’s going to have to wait.’ 

‘Is it?’ 

‘Come on, Scorpius. You think we’re going to be allowed to flit off again this summer? I’m pretty sure I’m going to be locked in my bedroom for the next few months.’ 

‘Who said anything about this summer?’ 

She slid over to him, hand on his chest. ‘And then we go back to school.’ 

Scorpius stopped at that, brow furrowing. ‘Oh, hell. We do, don’t we. Can you believe we still have two years left? The entirety of our NEWTs? OWLs were only a year ago but they feel like another bloody lifetime.’ 

‘On the one hand, we’ve all learnt a hell of a lot of magic in the last few months. On the other, I’m not sure how much use some of it is going to be for passing tests.’ 

His frown deepened. ‘That’s kind of mental. We can do amazing spells to save our necks and perform amazing feats, but it’s going to be far more important I remember to chop up the bubotubers length-ways.’ He shook his head. ‘Actually, I reckon I’m done with Potions.’ 

‘I know a lot more which _will_ be useful for the NEWT. So I’ll keep it. Do you know what you’re going to do instead?’ 

‘Not a bloody clue. I suppose I should start thinking about scary things like _careers_ , hm?’ 

She stared at him. ‘You didn’t already for your NEWT selection?’ 

‘No, I just took what I could stand and figured the rest would sort itself out. What, you’ve got a _plan_?’ Scorpius looked like the mere notion was alien to him. 

‘I did.’ Rose grimaced. ‘Ministry. Magical Law Enforcement - not an Enforcer or an Auror, the legal office… if this sounds a lot like the path my mother took, you’d be right.’ 

‘Not any more?’ 

She shook her head. ‘I want to _do_ things. I don’t want to be stuck in an office all day. And I want to do something important without trying to save the world every damn day. So, I don’t know.’ 

‘Whatever you do, I think, “helped hunt the Chalice of Emrys” will look _great_ on your records.’ He smirked. ‘I’ll just take it as it comes. Obviously my father always wanted me to go into business with him. I don’t think I’ll take him up on that any time soon, but… we’ll see.’ 

‘We will. Do what you’re good at. What you enjoy. And we have _all_ the time in the world to figure out the rest first.’ 

‘We do.’ The frown returned. ‘This is going to be weird. Going back to it all, I mean. Worrying about homework and Quidditch and House Points and dodging prefects…’ The corner of his mouth twitched. ‘Except for one prefect.’ 

She raised an innocent eyebrow. ‘Well, no, I didn’t think you’d dodge Al…’ 

His hands slid down her back to her waist, his smile broadening at the same rate. ‘We’re going to have to find and make time, you know. Sneaking out to see each other. Being obnoxiously cute in corridors between classes. Sending torrid little notes. We won’t be able to spend time together every day easily, so we’re going to have to make up for it.’ 

‘If that’s the price I pay for not having to worry about you _dying_ every five minutes, I’m sure I can find inventive ways to make up for our time apart.’ She returned the smirk. 

His gaze went solemn. ‘You understand now you’re going to have to cheer me on at Quidditch matches.’ 

She went from lounging across him, entangled in the comfortable, warm aftermath to on her feet in the middle of the bedroom before she’d realised she was moving. ‘You’re kidding! My family might put up with me shacking up with a Malfoy, but I will get _disowned_ quicker than you can say “Quaffle” if I cheer on Slytherin at Quidditch!’ 

Scorpius burst into laughter so hard it had him near-paralysed in the bed, flat on his back, clutching his gut. ‘Oh, Merlin, the _look on your face_ , you’d have thought I just asked you to kill Artemis!’ 

Rose replayed the last few seconds and realised he’d tapped into something primal, drilled into her at birth. Trying to not join in the laughter, she pointed an accusing finger at him. ‘Don’t you mess around with _Quidditch_ in my family, Scorpius Malfoy. That is a bridge too far!’ 

He dragged himself across the bed to sit at the edge, and reached up to snatch her hand. ‘Okay, okay! I’ll just upset you horribly by beating your brother and your whole House.’ 

‘I’ve put up with Albus and James playing on opposite teams for years,’ she said, mollified. ‘I can put up with this.’ 

He grinned and tugged her hand to pull her down into his lap. ‘No messing with Quidditch. But even if we see each other less, we’ll be able to do that kind of everyday, normal stuff couples do. And I will be utterly obnoxious and land you with flowers and chocolates - and maybe on Valentine’s Day you get singing little chocolate hearts that can fly or something awful like that.’ 

She tried to give him a stony look, but was smiling far too much. ‘Why would you do _that_?’ 

‘Because the look on your face will be absolutely priceless.’ His smirk flickered. ‘You’re going to make me study, aren’t you.’ 

It was her turn to look smug, and she kissed him on the nose. ‘It’ll be the perfect way for us to spend time together in a serious, responsible way. I can’t have a boyfriend who isn’t trying to better himself…’ 

‘Oh, _God_ , you’re going to regress…’ 

She shoved his shoulder and they tumbled back onto the bed in a whole new jumble of limbs and hair, and she wasn’t inclined to disentangle herself from under him until a fresh thought struck her. She drew back just enough to look him the eye, the bedsheets now a thorough mess around them, gaze apprehensive. ‘You know, this really _is_ the last night we can just… lounge around like this. Talk like this.’ 

‘Is it?’ 

‘I’ll go home. You’ll go back to staying at the Potters’. We’re back to stolen moments at the back of my garden -’ 

He leaned down to kiss her, and this was a gentle, silencing kiss, not another prelude. ‘We’ll work it out. And besides, I can’t live on a camp-bed in Albus’ room forever. I’m of age. I have my own money. I’m not going back to my father. And we’ve got months until school starts.’ Scorpius shrugged. ‘I was thinking of finding my own place. Maybe with Al, if he likes. I think we’re all a bit grown up past the point of being under someone else’s roof.’ He brushed his nose against hers. ‘So then _you_ _’d_ be welcome under my roof any time.’ 

She smiled up at him, because while the idea of returning to her old life, to normalcy, was exciting, it was also daunting. They _had_ become used to doing what they wished - she and Scorpius were used to sharing a room, sharing a _bed_ , any time they pleased, and being treated like furtive teenagers by parents was not an enthusing prospect. Even if she had to concede that this, really, was what they were. 

They stood with one foot thrust into adulthood, the other not yet dragged from childhood, and she knew she was selfish in wanting the best of both worlds, the innocence and faded responsibility of childhood, but the freedom she knew her parents would need time to learn to grant her, and which Hogwarts wouldn’t give at all. This whisper of freedom, of serious plans without needing to commit or do anything crazy, was a new, intoxicating prospect. 

But still, she lifted a hand to brush his scruffy hair back, planted a lingering, teasing kiss on his lips. ‘I like that idea. But that’s for the future, and in about twelve hours we’ll be back into the real world.’ 

He gave a slow, smug smile. ‘Oh, yeah,’ said Scorpius. ‘I was getting distracted by that future thing. How about we slip back into the present?’ 

And he kissed her again and the world rushed away again - the future, the past, even the present of being a stone’s throw from a beautiful city they’d never seen before. Because they had their last chance in a while to build a moment that was about them and nothing else in the world, and she was not going to let it slip through their fingers. 

The rest of the world could wait.

* * 

A glance out the window told her that night had fallen, and she tightened the final buckle on her bag. She’d never had many belongings, and she’d ditched what she didn’t need. She had to travel light, and she had to travel fast. 

They’d be going back to Britain tomorrow. They had the Chalice of Emrys. The Council of Thorns had been thwarted and the International Magical Convocation would take action. And the Hogwarts Five would be hailed as heroes the moment the press caught wind of the entire thing. 

She had long outstayed her welcome. 

_You can_ _’t go back to him_ , Eva told herself as she hefted the bag. _You think there_ _’s a story in the world you can spin which he’d accept?_ Then she scowled when she realised she wasn’t sure which “him” she meant. Prometheus? Albus? It didn’t matter. They were one and the same in how affected her options. She’d betrayed them both, and neither would accept her now. 

The Council would kill her if she went to them. They weren’t idiots; once the Chalice was in the hands of the IMC, they’d know she’d at best failed them, at worst abandoned them, and they would have no tolerance for either in such a high-stakes matter. But if she stayed with the Five, within about an hour on British Ministry property her cover identity would fall apart, and she’d be looking at the inside of a prison cell. 

That wasn’t the thought which made her gut curl up with apprehension and shame. Imagining the look on Albus’ face if he found the truth was, at this moment, far, far worse. 

_I_ _’m pretty sure that after your first year of a life sentence, the look on some boy’s face will be the_ least _of your concerns._   
  
So there was only one thing for it. She had to leave, and now, and go far, far away. Somewhere neither Albus Potter nor Prometheus Thane would find her. The far side of the world would hide her, and she’d have to find a new name, a new identity, and a whole new life. Lisa Delacroix was dead. And soon enough, Eva Saida would be, too. One way or another. 

She slung the bag over her shoulder and glanced out of the window to night-clad Venice. It would be quiet in the rooms, quiet in the lobby. She’d spotted the back entrance. She’d be out and lost in the city soon enough. Apparition could get her to Rome by dawn, and she had hidden enough money in enough caches around Europe, along with cover identities, that she could be off the continent by the end of the day. 

Then there was a knock on the door, and she swore under her breath. Perhaps she could ignore it. Hide until they went away - 

‘Lisa?’ 

It was Albus’ voice, low and concerned, and she gave another hissing oath. He wasn’t going to be easily diverted - maybe she could go out the window, but she didn’t want to raise the alarm by being gone too soon. She didn’t want them to know until she was out of the city, until their Portkey was looming and they had no choice but to hop back to Britain and worry about her later, by which point she’d be far away. 

Time to bluff. 

She tossed the bag by the wall and slunk to the door, slowing her breathing before she opened it. Albus stood there doing his usual impression of a protective puppy, which was not a juxtaposition she’d ever thought she’d understand or find appealing in the first place. His eyes lit up, but he soon gave an apologetic grimace. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just wanted to… check in.’ 

Eva kept her hand on the door. ‘I’m fine,’ she said, trying to sound as reassuring and honest as possible. 

‘You were quiet at dinner.’ 

_I was planning how to run away_. She shook her head. ‘I was thinking. I didn’t mean to worry you.’ 

He rolled a shoulder. ‘Anything I can help with?’ 

_No. I_ _’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow._ That was what she should have said, and within an hour she could run away and never see him again. But the idea of those being their parting words was like a blow to the gut, and she had to fight back the flinch. _Don_ _’t be a fucking idiot, Saida_ , she told herself. And promptly opened the door wider. ‘You can… sure.’ 

He smiled his small, relieved smile which was so heartening because he was normally so confident and self-assured. To see him nervous around her gave a childish surge, that she could do that to someone who was almost never hesitant. But then he stepped in, and almost at once he noted the state of the room. ‘You packed already?’ 

Eva closed the door to hide her scowl. _Shit._ ‘I didn’t really _unpack_ …’ 

He turned and spotted the bag by the wall. When his gaze locked on her, his green eyes were ardent, piercing. ‘You’re _leaving_.’ 

‘I’m going back to Paris,’ she lied. ‘There’s no need for me to go to the Ministry, to Britain, with all of you…’ 

‘You did this as much as any of us.’ He advanced cautiously. ‘Your debriefing will be invaluable, and you deserve as much of the acclaim as any of us -’ 

‘I don’t _want_ the acclaim.’ That, at least, was sincere. 

Albus’ expression twisted. ‘I… would hate to see you go.’ 

_There it is._ She swallowed. ‘I’ll be in touch soon. I just have to take care of some things at home.’ 

‘So why were you leaving without a word?’ 

‘I hate goodbyes.’ That, at least, was not a lie. ‘I was going to write. I don’t - I didn’t want to…’ As ever in her lies, she had to dig into herself to find some kernel of truth. ‘I didn’t want to get so entangled in your life that I’d complicate it. By being in it, or by leaving it.’ 

He closed the distance, reached out to grab her hand. She didn’t flinch away, because she didn’t flinch away from _him._ ‘I have no problem with any complications you’d bring my life. I’d _welcome_ them.’ 

_No, you wouldn_ _’t._ ‘Maybe once the fallout of all of this is over. Maybe when I’ve taken care of whoever sold me _out_ back home -’ 

‘All the more reason to stick with us! The Ministry can help you while you unravel the Council influences in Paris. We’ll talk to my aunt, to my dad, we’ll get all of this fixed -’ 

She put a hand to his chest, cut off his ardour. ‘Al. It will be fine. I just need to sort things out for myself first.’ Eva drew a slow, guilty breath. ‘Then I will find you. Can you trust me?’ 

He blinked, gaze guileless. ‘Of course. But if you need me… if you need _anything_ I can do…’ 

_I need you to leave and forget this conversation ever happened_. ‘I know. And I know you’ll tell me I don’t have to do all of this alone, and I’m _sorry_. But I want to put some parts of my old life to bed. That’s the only way I could… come anywhere near your life.’ It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t possible. She drew another unsteady breath. ‘But whatever my life is, or has been - the old and the new and whatever comes ahead. Whoever I’ve been, whatever I’ve done, however much I’ve lied, I need you to know - I need you to believe: _This is real_. You and me. This might be more real than anything I’ve ever known.’ That was a sad truth, that their weeks of fleetingly getting to grips with one another, finding their common ground, finding how _he_ could find the truths within her, were more real, more raw than years of Prometheus Thane. But Prometheus Thane had been interested, above all, in what he could turn her into. 

Albus Potter had only wanted to know who she was. 

The corners of his eyes creased, and he stepped in. She did not push him back. ‘You don’t have to leave _just_ yet,’ he murmured, head tilting in. ‘Do you?’ 

She could feel his breath on her cheek, see his eyes ripping through her masks. Feel the rise and fall of his chest under her hand, and the compact muscles of his powerful frame that nevertheless gave her no cause to fear even when he’d just need to reach out and he could pin her. Normally having a man so close would set off old alarm bells, but all Eva could think when Albus was this close was that it wasn’t enough, she needed him to be closer. 

‘No.’ She tilted her head up, brushed her nose against his, breathed the words against his lips. ‘No… I don’t have to go anywhere yet.’ 

She fell into his arms as he kissed her, pulled him close and fervently against her. She’d come closer to the truth than ever, a truth that would burn them both, and she could only risk it because it was the last chance, the last time. Tomorrow would come and she’d be gone, and then she’d never see him again, could never reach out for him again, could never be the better person he made her want to be. So they only had tonight, and tonight had to last forever. 

Eva had taken men to her bed before. She’d spent too long in a job where she brushed against death not to. When you fought for your life side-by-side with someone else, sometimes when the dust settled you just _had_ to re-affirm your survival with someone who understood what you’d been through. Some of these occasions she’d regretted and some of them she hadn’t, but none of them had lasted. 

So in some ways this was no different. In others this was more different than anything she’d ever known, intimacy and vulnerability without reservation, without fear, without pain. Albus did not push; it defied his entire _nature_ to place the slightest pressure in a moment like this. For once she found herself being the one to coax, encourage. His hesitation was comforting, the awkward enthusiasm which followed intoxicating, and in the ways it was new ground for them both, they could find their path together. 

There could be joy in intimacy, she discovered, pleasure in vulnerability, and Eva suspected she only allowed it because she knew it was never, ever going to happen again. It was harder for there to be consequences when she’d never see them. 

She did not find sleep after, though he did. She lay in the bed next to him, the only light from the moon shining through the curtains she hadn’t bothered drawing, and watched the rise and fall of his chest, watched the seconds tick by. If she slept, morning would come, and Eva didn’t think she’d ever feared anything more in her life than the rising of that sun. So she stayed awake, and nestled in close against him in the only place in the world she’d felt safe and accepted, and knew in her heart of hearts that this being ripped from her was only the beginning of everything she deserved. This peaceful place was not justice for her. 

Soon, too soon, there came the glow of the twilight through the window, and still Albus did not stir. He didn’t need to wake for hours yet, and she not only couldn’t bring herself to break his peace, but knew it would come with new conversations she couldn’t afford. She’d barely afforded the last. 

The kiss on his lips was gentle, one last touch before she drew away forever. Her footsteps were light as she got out of bed and dressed, movements silent as she slipped on her shoes and retrieved her bag, slunk to the door. There she paused, let her gaze drift back to Albus’ peaceful form stretched across the bed, and she found herself counting to ten as she watched him. 

Ten heartbeats. She had to count it out, because if she didn’t set herself a limit, she’d watch him forever. 

_This, right here. This night, this moment. This is real_ , she thought. Then she opened the door just enough for her to slip out, and left him forever. 

She could slip down the stairwell, avoid the front desk and head for the back door, and by the light of the rising sun she’d be out and into the city. She would need to move faster than she’d planned, but perhaps Albus would _accept_ her being gone now, perhaps he’d take the Portkey. But she couldn’t second guess what he was going to do, Eva scolded herself as she slipped down the corridor for the rear exit. All she could do was focus on getting away, on opening that door and - 

\- and running into Prometheus Thane. 

He wasn’t alone, stood in the street with a trio of his bruisers she dimly recognised, dressed in dark robes with his wand in hand, and he looked almost as surprised to see her as she was to see him. His hand shot out to steady her, and to her astonishment his grip was firm but not iron. ‘Eva…’ 

‘Prometheus.’ Her mind raced a mile a minute - and then instinct took over, that dominant survival instinct which screamed at her to lie, lie, lie. ‘What’re you _doing_ here? I was just headed for the drop-point to _tell_ you…’ 

‘That they’re here, with the Chalice? My dear, you almost let them slip through your grasp. But no matter.’ He gave a firm, pleased smile, and she knew him well enough by now. He’d doubted her. He’d feared. But what possible reason could she be out here, on her own, with a packed bag, than if she was leaving the Hogwarts Five behind? He would never imagine she would go her own way, on her own, because that would never have been possible for the Eva Saida he knew. 

Prometheus Thane nodded over his shoulder to the trio of wizards. ‘We received word, and came. So it’s time to take the Chalice - and, at last, the Hogwarts Five.’ 


	51. Ashes, Ashes

The Portkey sent them into pitch darkness. Scorpius found himself tightening his hold on Rose for his own comfort as much as hers as all the five of them knew, for the first thudding heartbeat, was the echo of gasps against stone. Without a wand, he had nothing more useful to do than hang on as a burst of magical energy from who-knew-where brought light. 

Sconces along stone walls showed them a bare chamber, no window, a metal door which looked far newer than the masonry. Firelight flickered gold across sandstone, and while it was familiar to Scorpius, he couldn’t place it until Matt swore and said, ‘Ager Sanguinis.’ 

Rose clutched his arm, voice hushed. ‘What the hell is going on?’ 

They’d come for them at dawn, Thane and his thugs. Scorpius had no clue what they’d done with the hotel staff, but one moment he’d been asleep, the next he’d had a wand in his face with orders for him to get dressed, get his things. That had been some unknown thug, but then Prometheus Thane had let himself into the room, holding the Chalice of Emrys. They’d _all_ been grabbed, and the cunning hiding place of Selena’s luggage had not held up to scrutiny. 

The other three had been dragged to their room, and Scorpius had frowned at the absence of Lisa, but nobody said anything. Perhaps she’d got away, he thought, or the Council didn’t know to look for her. Standing at wand-point, entirely at Prometheus Thane’s mercy, was not the time to push matters. But there had been no further conversation before they’d been huddled together, a Portkey shoved into their hands, and then there’d been the rushing sensation of magical travel. Then this darkness. 

‘That Portkey was pretty rough,’ Rose continued. ‘I bet it wasn’t legal.’ 

‘I’d _hope_ Prometheus Thane wasn’t waving around a legal Portkey,’ said Selena. 

‘How’d they _find_ us?’ Scorpius said. 

‘And where,’ growled Albus, stalking to the door, his large hands planting on the solid metal, ‘is Lisa?’ 

‘She didn’t get away?’ Scorpius watched him. 

‘No. She was - she wasn’t there when they woke me up.’ 

Selena drew a slow breath. ‘And we’re not sure how they found us. Oh, _Albus_ …’ 

He whirled around, expression twisted with anger. ‘No! It is _not_ -’ 

The door opened, swinging hard enough to hit his back and send him staggering. The first thing they saw come through was a wand, then Prometheus Thane, flanked by a pair of Council mercenaries. Scorpius’ gut twisted. While he’d been at the man’s mercy before, he’d never been a trapped rat in a cage with all of his friends. 

‘Thane,’ said Scorpius in a low, steady voice. ‘We can talk about this.’ 

‘You’re good at talking, Mister Malfoy,’ said Thane. ‘I suggest, for the moment, you make sure nobody tries to do something stupid. I would hate to hurt any of you needlessly.’ 

Albus was glaring broadswords at the side of Thane’s head, and Scorpius waved a curt hand at him. ‘Guys. They’ve got the wands.’ 

There was no movement from Albus, which at least meant he didn’t go for anyone, and Thane seemed mollified by this. ‘You are currently guests of the Council of Thorns. This doesn’t need to take long at all. If you cooperate, you will be allowed to leave.’ 

‘Then why take us prisoner?’ said Scorpius, and hoped he wouldn’t regret asking. 

‘Some of you, I need. The rest - the options are for me to murder you now, or for me to keep you prisoner until anything you know about us and what’s going on here is useless to the IMC. We’ll be done soon, and then we’ll be long gone with the fruits of our labours.’ Thane inclined his head. ‘I should _thank_ you for delivering the Chalice of Emrys to us. We will do great things with it, you know.’ 

‘You mean terrible things.’ Albus’ voice grated. 

‘Often one and the same. But it doesn’t matter. You stay put, and nobody needs to be harmed.’ 

Albus didn’t move, coiling tighter and tighter into a big ball of muscle. ‘How did you find us?’ 

Thane quirked an eyebrow. ‘You need to ask, Mister Potter? I thought it would be obvious by now.’ He glanced over his shoulder at the door. ‘Eva, my dear, if you’d pop in?’ 

When the woman stepped in, Scorpius _wished_ he could say he was surprised. He felt Rose tense next to him, heard Matt swear, heard Selena mutter something about hating being right under her breath. But his gaze landed on Albus, who was staring at the new arrival with wide, horrified eyes. 

‘You had a snake in your midst all along,’ said Thane, resting a hand on the woman’s shoulder. ‘May I introduce Eva Saida, who was charged with infiltrating you at Monte Carlo. And she did a _splendid_ job, I must say.’ 

Albus’ expression flickered, and Scorpius could see him wavering through horror - then coming out the other side at fury. ‘You -’ 

He lunged, and Scorpius didn’t know if he was going for Thane or Saida, but wands flashed all the same and sent him flying into the wall. Scorpius would have sworn he saw Saida flinch, but then one of Thane’s goons was rounding on Albus, and he let go of Rose to bound forward. ‘Stop! This isn’t necessary.’ 

‘I agree,’ said Thane, voice low, tight, calm. ‘If Mister Potter will restrain himself, then there needs to be no more conflict. But I have been with you _every_ step of the way. You had a fine chance of finding the Chalice, and so I thought it best to use you, not thwart you.’ Next to him, Saida stood stock still, and stared at a point on the wall rather than look at the prisoners. 

Albus had slumped to the ground, groaning, and Rose went to his side. ‘Do you need anything, then, Thane?’ she asked. ‘Or did you just come here to gloat?’ 

‘Gloating,’ said Thane, ‘is not my intention. But the Council is in Ager Sanguinis for a reason. I was _delighted_ to learn from Eva that you’d been here before; the Colonel always doubted your competence, and to prove him wrong, to prove my faith in you was not misplaced, is gratifying. We need someone for the next step, and as you are here, as you are available, there are some of you who are _perfect_ for helping the Council with Project Starfall.’ 

Scorpius squared his shoulders and took another step forward. ‘What do you need?’ he asked, voice low, careful, and he tried to not glance at Rose and Albus. _I will hurl myself from the top of these towers before I let you hurt them._   
  
Thane looked him up and down, and something flickered in his gaze. ‘You will suffice, Mister Malfoy. I could make use of Mister Doyle or maybe Ms Rourke, but it began with you and I, didn’t it? Fitting it should end in such a way.’ 

‘No!’ Rose leapt to her feet, hair wild, eyes blazing, and Scorpius had to lift a hand to her. 

‘Don’t fight them, Rose. It’ll be okay.’ 

‘You have _no idea_ if it’ll be all right.’ She stormed at Thane, ignoring the wand levelled at her. ‘And I have _no intention_ of letting them drag you off to slaughter -’ 

‘ _Stupefy_!’ 

‘Enough!’ Scorpius roared as the spell thudded into Rose, knocked her down, and he thought the sick feeling in his gut might have never left him since that first night in the Forbidden Forest when he’d realised he and his friends could really, actually, _die_. ‘I’ll go with you. I’ll work on your damn Project. I’ll be _used_ , but you have to _promise_ me that you’re going to let them go when you’re done.’ 

Thane regarded him for a moment. ‘And why, exactly, are you bothering to extract that promise?’ 

His jaw tightened. ‘Because you think of yourself as an honourable man. You think you’re not cruel unless you have a reason. So we’ll give you no reason to hurt us, and I will cooperate. And then you’ll let them go.’ 

‘I notice you’re making no requests for your own safety.’ 

‘You’ve given no assurances. You’ve not said what you need me for. But I’ll go.’ He gestured to Rose. ‘Now at least dispel that, _please_.’ His voice shook, and he was reminded that his grasp of Thane’s character wasn’t completely wrong, because Thane watched him almost with pity in his gaze before he waved his wand. Rose sat up, eyes wide, movements stiff from the Stun, and he knelt next to her, hands on her shoulders. ‘I’ll be okay. I’ll come back. Every time.’ 

She worked her jaw, eyes locked on him, and her voice was thick when she answered. ‘You can’t promise that.’ 

‘Don’t care. It’s a promise.’ His heart thudded in his chest as he kissed her, and the sluggishness in her limbs from the spell was not enough to stop her from clutching at him one more time before he let her go. ‘I love you.’ 

Her eyes were shining, and she got to her feet as he did, relinquishing her grasp only when he pulled back. ‘I love you.’ 

Albus was standing by now, big hands clenched into fists. ‘Scorpius. You don’t need to -’ 

‘Get them home, Al.’ Then one of Thane’s men was grabbing him by the shoulder, dragging him out of the room, and any answer or argument was lost from his ears as he was pulled into the corridors of Ager Sanguinis, the heavy door of his friends’ cell slammed shut behind him.

* * 

Eva glowered at Thane’s back as he led them down the castle’s corridors. He probably had several reasons for bringing her to that meeting, but one was abundantly clear. He was showing he still had power over her. She would still do as she was told. Or so he wanted her to believe. She had no grounds to argue right now. 

‘So.’ Scorpius walked behind her, and his voice had lost that strength of when he’d told the others to stand down. Now there was only anger and fear sharpened to a knife’s edge. ‘Was fucking with Albus necessary, or just for your own amusement?’ 

Her jaw set. ‘It made you trust me, didn’t it?’ 

‘We trusted _him_. You just came with the territory. And, you know, I could sympathise with you doing a job, and it’s not as if you made out like you had a personal investment in us - except for _him_.’ He bounded to close the gap in their procession, grabbed her elbow. ‘ _Him_ , you fucked with, and I swear that if there’s a single person in this operation I’ll see burn, for hurting Albus I’ll make sure it’s _you_.’ 

Thane turned, the thugs turned, but she didn’t need to go for her wand to defend herself. He was still a boy and she was still a killer, and it took only a twist of the arm, a hand planted in the small of his back to slam Scorpius face-first against the sandstone walls of Ager Sanguinis. ‘Then it’s a pity,’ she said, unable to summon hatred or grief or anything but emptiness to her voice, ‘that you’ll have no such chance.’ 

‘Malfoy!’ Thane glared. ‘You promised me your cooperation. Don’t make me remind you what’s at stake.’ 

‘You’re right,’ Scorpius growled, though he struggled against Eva’s pin. ‘I just realised that I’ll cooperate a lot better if I _never_ have to see this bitch.’ 

‘You’ll do what I tell you to do.’ Still, Thane gave Eva a curt nod. ‘Let him go.’ He looked to the two thugs. ‘Take him to a secure room near the main chamber. We’re not ready yet anyway.’ 

She didn’t look at Scorpius as he was dragged off, but she could feel his blue-grey eyes as if they were burning a hole in the side of her head. ‘Bringing me to them,’ she told Thane once he was gone, ‘was only going to agitate -’ 

He snatched her arm, grip holding a fury he had _never_ turned on her before, and dragged her around a different corner. ‘We’re going to see Raskoph,’ he said. ‘He’s _eager_ to have a proper conversation.’ 

‘I told you all I -’ 

‘And I told him, and now he wants to see you. He’s going up in the world, my dear. Once Project Starfall is complete, his prestige in the Council of Thorns will be even greater. You are _not_ going to want him as an enemy, so if he has questions, you are going to _answer_ them!’ 

His voice echoed down the passages as she followed, reminding her of what she already knew. She’d lied through her teeth in Venice, assured Thane that she’d been _just about_ to contact the Council. It had probably never occurred to Thane that she would choose _neither_ side, and so she suspected she was given the benefit of the doubt for old time’s sake. Relaying everything she’d seen with the Hogwarts Five - with some choice omissions or alterations - had solidified her position, but only partly. The jury was still out, and Raskoph would be the judge when it was over. 

Still, _nobody_ grabbed her if she could help it. Eva yanked her arm back. ‘I never knew you were so willing to do his bidding. I thought you answered to better, more important people?’ 

Thane’s jaw clenched but he didn’t answer, so she followed him down the corridors she remembered walking all those weeks ago. She’d been as surprised as anyone that Raskoph had set up some sort of operation in Ager Sanguinis. She knew she shouldn’t have been. He’d sent wizards here for a reason, and some mishaps with golems wouldn’t be enough to divert him from his purpose. But she’d never stopped to think about it. 

Stepping into the central chamber, she knew this oversight was a mistake. 

The Veil still dominated the room, and even in the mid-morning light streaming through the hole in the high roof, it was as if darkness ebbed out of it. She would have guessed it was the reason for the Council’s presence even without the scaffold erected at one side of the pool, about twenty feet high, which ended in a broad platform suspended over the Veil itself. 

Raskoph and Thane had been busy, and they were not alone. Eva counted a score of Council wizards in the main chamber alone, and she had no idea how many other guards were around the castle. Not all of them were mercenaries, though - a good half present were making notes, peering over at the Veil, working on the scaffold. There was a plan, and whatever it was, it was going to take work. 

A glance through the door to the stairway upward showed the steps were intact. _Good_ , she thought before she could stop herself. _They didn_ _’t find the back entrance._ But Thane didn’t linger. He led her to the other corridor, the way she and Albus had first come, and then to the very first room down that passageway. 

It had been a wide but empty room when she’d first been here weeks ago. Today, it was not empty. 

Maybe a dozen suits of armour, all of a similar style to what she’d seen in Badenheim, were lined up before the tall, severe, black-robed figure she knew so well, and knew to hate. Colonel Raskoph walked the line with slow, steady steps, gimlet eyes sweeping over the metal as if he could see the slightest imperfections, hands clasped behind his back, spine ramrod straight. Thane closed the door behind them and they waited in the gloom, but neither man spoke, and Raskoph did not react to their presence. 

After perhaps a minute, Raskoph stopped before one of the suits of armour, reached out a long-fingered hand to brush off some unseen flaw. ‘The perfect soldiers,’ he said, as if they had been having a companionable conversation at odds with his granite, accented voice. ‘No questions. No doubt. No failure.’ 

Eva gritted her teeth. ‘Golems can still fail. I have seen this.’ 

‘They can be beaten. But they will rise again. Few wizards will do that.’ Raskoph turned, and hope waned when his empty grey eyes fell on her. ‘Welcome back to the fold, Eva Saida.’ 

The part of her that was still Lisa, even if it was curling and dying like paper eaten by fire, quavered. The rest of her, Eva with her remorseless need to survive, kept her expression and voice calm. ‘My mission is complete.’ 

‘So it would seem,’ said Raskoph, and clasped his hands behind his back again. ‘The Chalice of Emrys is in our hands. The Hogwarts Five are in our hands. They will be no trouble?’ 

This last was addressed to Thane, who shook his head. ‘I have secured Malfoy’s cooperation in exchange for a promise of their release.’ 

‘I am not interested in releasing them.’ 

‘It would be unwise to kill all of them,’ said Thane. ‘And killing some is without purpose.’ 

‘The son of Harry Potter? The daughter of his allies? The daughter of _Lillian Rourke_?’ Raskoph’s eyebrows raised. ‘That would prove our power.’ 

‘Once Project Starfall is complete,’ said Thane, ‘nobody will question the Council’s power.’ 

Raskoph advanced, footsteps clicking on the cold sandstone slabs. He moved like he was made of iron, stiff and uncompromising, unbending. Thane did not react to his approach, but Eva saw him tense, and for the first time a jolt of _real_ fear ran through her. When she’d seen them last, Thane had treated Raskoph as a nuisance to be handled. But now he was reluctant, tense, despite his disagreement. 

‘Perhaps,’ said Raskoph after long, scraping moments. ‘But I will kill them if I wish to. I care nothing for whatever deals you have made with the Malfoy boy. But we did not come here to discuss the Five.’ And his cold gaze fell again on Eva. ‘You defied me at least twice.’ 

‘You tried to kill me at least twice.’ She made herself arch an eyebrow. ‘I didn’t get paid enough to die for your convenience.’ 

Raskoph threw Thane an accusing look. ‘No,’ said the colonel. ‘You are, of course, one of the _mercenaries_ my comrades in the Council of Thorns are so fond of using. Or, were so fond of using.’ 

‘Were?’ Eva hated asking about the past tense. It never ended well. 

‘The Council of Thorns no longer pays rats like you to do jobs. We are a union of _purpose_. There is much unfinished work the great minds of the last century left behind, and it is our duty to see it _done_.’ Raskoph shook his head. ‘Tolerance of the Muggle world. The dilution of our magical principles, culture. These are sicknesses which must be stamped out from our people.’ 

‘I don’t see,’ said Eva, ‘how plagues like Eridanos stamp out those.’ 

‘Of course you do not. Your kind sees only as far as your next payment. But through Phlegethon, through Eridanos, through Lethe, the world shall fear us, and they shall be weakened, and soon enough they will _beg_ my comrades and _me_ to save them. For all men fear death, when there are so many worse fates in this world. Like losing one’s self, as is happening to _all_ wizarding kind in this _modern_ world.’ Raskoph sneered. 

She watched him as he stalked, as he delivered such vitriolic fury with that same deadened air, this relic of past hatreds who had somehow endured a hundred years. ‘You’re right,’ she said at last. ‘I do only see as far as my payment, for my jobs. And my job is done.’ 

‘The Chalice of Emrys delivered.’ Raskoph glanced between them. ‘Except it was not from you that we learnt of the Five’s location.’ 

‘I couldn’t get away from them sooner,’ she said. ‘I was going to send word, but Prometheus got there first. You’d have known before they left Venice.’ The lie came easy, because anything else meant death. 

‘And yet you let them survive on Kythos -’ 

‘I signed up to _spy_ on them, not _die_ with them -’ 

‘You helped them kill my people _here_.’ 

‘I wasn’t there. Spinks was dead and the fight was over by the time I even knew about him. There was nothing I could do.’ It felt odd to tell the truth. 

‘You crossed wands with _me_ in Tomar.’ 

‘What was I supposed to do?’ Eva opened her hands. ‘I had no idea why you were there, and my original mission remained. Anything else would have blown my cover.’ 

‘And you slew Downing on Brillig.’ 

_Shit_. She’d said as much, but this was where the lies got more complicated. ‘He told me Brillig was the last hurrah of Eridanos. His mission was over; at that point nothing I did hurt Council operations. And I’d have let him get away, but the Five showed up before I could. So I had to kill him - else they’d have taken him prisoner, used Legilimency, and my cover would have been blown. I made it look like self-defence.’ 

Raskoph stared at her, empty eyes trying to bore through her masks. Her heart thudded in her chest as she stood firm. ‘You would not die for your mission, but you would kill your allies for it?’ 

‘Not just that, though it _was_ him or me by then. But Downing was important to these operations. If he’d been taken alive, _all_ he knew would be in the IMC’s hands by now. And I couldn’t let him go without ruining my own mission - a mission which _worked_ , they _got_ the Chalice, and now we’ve got it.’ Her chest surged as she found the justifications, and found the part of her which meant it, which remembered she had been loyal to Prometheus Thane for so long. But somewhere in her gut were those curling, smoldering shards of somebody else, and they screamed at her for her betrayal. 

Thane drew a slow breath. ‘She stayed in contact. She achieved the objective. And we have everything we wanted.’ The rush of gratitude which surged through her was familiar. _Save me, protect me, make everything better_. But from somewhere inside there was a mocking laugh. 

Raskoph regarded Thane for a moment, before turning on his heel. ‘Very well. She is your hireling, and the work is done. We have new work to do. When can we begin?’ 

‘An hour or so should suffice,’ said Thane. ‘Why do we need the golems?’ 

‘Once it’s over, he will be handled by them. I would not assume old immunities work; there is a long way to go even if today is successful, and we cannot stay here. Once the process is complete I shall supply them with the words of power, and they will take over the… manhandling.’ 

Thane nodded as if this made perfect sense. ‘Understood. I will let you finish your work, sir.’ 

_Sir_. That was new. But Raskoph did not seem surprised, and waved an imperious hand as he returned his focus to the row of golems. ‘Go.’ 

She followed Thane out, let him close the door to Raskoph’s chambers - and couldn’t fight back a yelp when he grabbed the front of her shirt and slammed her against the wall. ‘You are treading on _very_ thin ice, Eva!’ 

Her breath was knocked from her lungs and stars sparked in front of her eyes, but she still struggled against him. Once, she’d have trusted him even now. No more. ‘I explained my -’ 

‘It’s not Raskoph you need to be worried about,’ growled Thane. ‘I am _not_ an idiot. You killed Downing.’ 

‘I explained _that_ , too.’ She met his gaze and tapped into something honest, primal, and furious. ‘And I’m not sorry. Downing was scum. That’s not why I killed him, but it’s why I fucking _enjoyed_ it.’ 

His lip curled. ‘And the mirror? You stopped using it, then you _dumped_ it -’ 

‘You needed to know nothing about my mission! If you could act on anything, Raskoph would know! And _obviously_ you had _no_ control over Raskoph! What the _fuck_ are you doing, Prometheus? Calling him “sir”, helping him with all this? We got in this to make money, not to prop up a group of lunatic dark wizards, mad Grindelwald survivors!’ 

He slammed her against the wall again. ‘You think there is _anywhere_ in this world where you don’t have to choose between the IMC and the Council of Thorns? As ever, I pick the winning side. I know what I’m doing, Eva, but you have to _trust_ me.’ 

She looked into his cold blue eyes. _I don_ _’t._ ‘That’s a tall order,’ she said. ‘Seeing as you don’t trust me.’ 

‘I don’t know what I think.’ He let her go, pushing her back as he straightened. ‘I want to trust you, Eva. I want this to be as it was. But you are sailing close to the wind right now. One misstep, and you won’t have to worry if I’ll protect you from Raskoph. You’ll have to worry about _me_.’ Never before had she been threatened by Prometheus Thane. While she knew he was a killer, while she saw how close he was to Raskoph, while she knew he would only have protected her when it suited him even before, this was a line he had never crossed. 

But then, _she_ had betrayed him, or tried to, and that would have been inconceivable only months ago. Had they crossed the Rubicon, both of them? Was this the point of no return? 

Instead she asked, ‘What are you going to do to Malfoy? What’s Lethe?’ 

‘That’s information I _don_ _’t_ trust you with,’ said Thane, brow furrowing. ‘Suffice to say that he and the Chalice will play an integral role in the future of the Council of Thorns. And the future of the whole world. Now, I need to get these preparations finished, and _you_ need to stay the hell out anyone’s way.’ 

He turned on his heel, stalked towards the central chamber, and she had to fight to find her voice. ‘You’re not going to keep your promise to Malfoy, are you?’ 

Thane stopped. ‘I won’t kill them all.’ 

‘But Raskoph will want a message and you won’t fight him. You’d have _never_ let someone make you break your word before, Prometheus. Why the hell are you changing yourself for _Raskoph_?’ 

‘Who said it was for him?’ 

‘Whoever it’s _for_ , you’ll still do as he tells you. So if he pushes you to kill, you’ll have to give him one of the Five, maybe two.’ 

‘Maybe.’ Now he looked over his shoulder, and his pitiless blue eyes locked on her without apology. ‘And I promise you, if that happens, I’ll start with Albus Potter.’ 

Then he left, and she stood alone in the corridor with his words echoing in her mind, and the burning shreds of Lisa Delacroix clawing at her insides.

* * 

‘Stop bothering,’ said Selena with a groan. ‘This is a solid sandstone building that’s - how many years old is it, Matt?’ 

‘About eight hundred.’ 

‘Eight hundred years old. The walls will not crumble.’ 

Rose ignored them on her systematic checking of every single lump of rock in the wall and floor of their prison. A tap, a shove, a tug, a wiggle - it didn’t matter. If there was a weak spot, she was going to find it. Even without magic. 

Selena sighed, and looked to Albus. ‘And stop trying to dig a ditch in the floor by pacing.’ All she got for her trouble was a venomous glare so unlike Albus, it was enough to send her into silence. 

Rose was grateful for this. She had work to do, she had to _try_ to find _something_ she could do, and the prattling of Selena was the last thing she needed. It only grated, and didn’t distract from the screaming in her mind, the raw terror beating away at her that she would never see Scorpius again. The only way to have that inside and not go completely mad was to _search_. 

‘We don’t know for sure what they’re going to do,’ said Matt after a while, and though he probably meant it helpfully, seemed to know it came out wrong. ‘I mean, this might be nothing lethal.’ 

‘It’s the Council of Thorns. It’s Prometheus Thane. They have not taken Scorpius away _to a lovely tea party_.’ Rose worked her fingers in the gaps around a stone in the wall, identical to every other stone in the wall, and it gave an identical lack of movement. ‘And _I_ would rather _try_ something than sit and reflect on how it _might not be that bad_!’ She heard the hysteria in her voice and gritted her teeth, focused on the wall. This was no time to panic. 

Then there was a rattle at the door and her heart lunged into her throat. She turned for the entrance like a startled cat ready to pounce or flee, and now she wished she’d pulled a brick loose so it could be a weapon. 

Especially when Lisa - no, that wasn’t her name. When Eva Saida stepped inside. Her lip curled. ‘ _You_.’ 

Eva snapped up her wand, expression flat. ‘Don’t move. I don’t want to break Prometheus’ promise of leaving you unharmed.’ 

‘ _Prometheus_.’ That was Selena, getting to her feet. She had waited in calm silence, but now her own anger, the anger they all shared, rose to the forefront. ‘Of course you’re on first name terms with him.’ 

Eva looked at her, to Matt - judiciously skipped Albus, who was a tall, quivering ball of muscle looking like he wasn’t sure if he should kill her or run from her - before her eyes locked on Rose. ‘I have no excuses for anything I did. No explanation that would be good enough.’ 

‘For you betraying us and dropping us here? No,’ said Rose. ‘I imagine you don’t.’ 

‘I didn’t intend it to go this way.’ 

‘I’m _really_ not interested in helping you assuage any sense of guilt. If you _ever_ gave a damn about us, then let us get _out_ of here so we can rescue Scorpius!’ 

It was a panicked, furious, desperate reaction. So she was surprised when Eva unslung a bag from her shoulder - her bag, _Rose_ _’s_ bag - and tossed it to the floor. ‘You’re right. Actions speak louder than words. Your wands and some of your stuff’s in here.’ 

Rose stared at it. ‘Are you _kidding_?’ 

‘I’m not looking for forgiveness. But I got into this to make money. Raskoph’s insane, and Prometheus doesn’t have him under control, and I have _no_ interest in letting the Council of Thorns run amok across the entire world.’ Eva’s lips thinned. ‘I also have no interest in watching you die. So, there you go.’ 

‘You think,’ said Selena archly, ‘that we’re going to trust you, after you sold us out?’ 

‘I think you don’t have a choice,’ said Eva. ‘Scorpius is about to be used for something, this Project Starfall. I don’t know what it is -distrusting me is the one thing both sides have in common. This is going to happen soon, within minutes, in the central chamber where the Veil is. I’d encourage you to leave him, take the front door and get away, but -’ 

‘You think we’d do that?’ Rose snarled. 

‘No,’ said Eva flatly. ‘Which is why I want you to get out of this cell, make your way to the chamber, and then _wait_ until I provide you with a _distraction_. I promise you that you can’t fight all of Raskoph’s men with just the five of you. I don’t think they’ve found the back exit, though, that place where we found de Sablé’s notes and the passage went deeper. Burst in. Grab Scorpius. _Go._ ’ 

‘This is ridiculous,’ said Matt. ‘This is a setup so you have an excuse to kill us -’ 

‘Do you think that Colonel Raskoph needs an excuse to kill you?’ Eva’s voice, so calm until this point, now cracked like a whip. ‘I have no idea what’s going to happen to Scorpius. You do not have time to go and fetch reinforcements. And Raskoph _is_ , once this is over, going to kill at least one of you.’ 

Rose frowned. ‘At least…?’ 

‘He’ll want to send a message. I suspect killing the children of heroes will suffice.’ Eva pointedly didn’t look at Albus, and a hateful understanding started to rise in Rose’s gut. ‘The bag’s there. The wands are in there. What else I could grab of yours that seemed useful is in there. Use it, don’t use it. If you use it, wait for my signal before bursting in there, or we’re _all_ dead.’ 

Selena glowered. ‘I don’t -’ 

‘What’s the signal?’ Albus spoke so softly he could almost not be heard. But, as ever, when Albus talked, people listened. 

Eva’s gaze only landed on him for a fraction of a second before she went back to watching Rose. ‘You’ll know it when you see it.’ 

‘ _Great_ ,’ sneered Selena. 

‘I’m not going to stick around afterwards. So don’t even bother to look for me. The moment this kicks off, everyone in this castle wants me dead. Just get out of there.’ Eva turned away, reached for the door handle. ‘And good luck.’ 

Then she left, and the first thing which broke the silence was Matt groaning, ‘Son of a bitch.’ 

Selena shook her head. ‘This is a trap. A setup. Or it’s crazy -’ 

‘I don’t care.’ Rose flew to her bag and began to toss the contents out. Wands. Matt’s sword. The Cloak of Invisibility. ‘Scorpius is in danger, and we have to go.’ 

‘Do you _trust_ her?’ 

‘Of course not. But we don’t have a choice.’ She pulled out a white card and frowned at it. ‘What’s this?’ 

Matt was by her side in a flash and grabbed it. ‘Our ticket out of here once all of this is done. My father gave me this. It’s basically a call for help. I activate this, he knows where I am and sends in whatever cavalry he can. It wasn’t much use on an infected island, but here…’ 

‘That sounds better,’ said Selena, ‘than trusting Lisa or Eva or whoever the _fuck_ she is. Activate it!’ 

‘Sure,’ said Matt. ‘Except reinforcements won’t appear instantly. And like Rose said. We don’t have time to wait.’ 

Rose tossed him and Selena their wands, and Matt scooped up his sword, too. Then she grabbed the last two wands and turned to Albus, who was staring at the door through which their treacherous benefactor had disappeared. Her voice was gentle as she slunk over. ‘Al. Are you with us?’ 

‘Of course I’m with you.’ But his shoulders were still squared, fists clenched, and he was staring at the door with a rage bubbling under the surface she had never seen from him. 

‘I know she fooled you. But I read her mind and I didn’t see it, either; she fooled _me_ , too.’ She put her hand on his arm, felt the quivering muscle under the t-shirt. 

‘Yeah, but you didn’t -’ His head jerked as he cut himself off. 

‘I know,’ Rose said again, gently. ‘But Scorpius needs us right now. _I_ need you. Here.’ 

Scorpius’ name seemed to work, and the rage in his frown cracked for fear. But fear she recognised, and when he took his wand from her, he moved with more of his usual control, instead of the crackling of the gathering storm. Albus gave a stiff nod. ‘Then you know I’m with you.’ 

Rose nodded and drew a slow breath. Fear was a churning vortex inside her, but she had no time for that. No time to be a stupid girl, not even any time to be a genius. This was a time for a fight of blood and bone, and she knew she was going to have to win because losing was inconceivable. 

‘For the record,’ said Selena when they all moved to the door, ‘I _really_ wish there’d just been a Spring Market in Badenheim.’ 


	52. Wrongs Darker than Death or Night

He didn’t know how long he’d been in the locked chamber on his own, waiting in the dark. When he checked his watch it was past noon, but then he realised he’d not looked at his watch at the start so this was no use to man nor beast. He did know another half-hour passed before anything else happened. So Scorpius Malfoy waited. He shuffled about the chamber, paced a groove in the stone, sat with his back against the wall, and tried to not think about what was ahead. Because there was no way it was going to be good. 

He wasn’t sure why he’d stepped up to face Thane like that. The man was a murderer who wrapped himself in silken words and masks and pretended, even to himself, that he was a figure of honour. Scorpius knew that better than the others; had seen it several times. Appealing to that side of him and hoping the mask didn’t crack was their best chance at survival. Selena would have clammed up or snarked. He didn’t know what Matt would do. Rose was scared and angry, and Albus’ agitation had been plain to see. That was, perhaps, the most upsetting part. Albus, first terrified for Lisa and furious at those who might have hurt her. Then, betrayed and lost. Nobody else was in a position to do the talking. Nobody else knew Thane like him. So he’d stepped up, and it had got him here, about to be used by the Council of Thorns for who-knew-what. All he could do was hope that whatever had made Thane spare him in the past would hold firm today. 

It was a small hope. 

_I_ _’ll come back. Every time. Except maybe this one._   
  
The door swung open, and he jerked to his feet and wished like hell he knew how to fight without a wand. If he got out of this, he told himself, he’d learn. Start a bare-knuckle boxing club in Hogwarts and get all of the detentions of a lifetime - 

Prometheus Thane’s face was as cold and uncompromising as the stones of Ager Sanguinis, the shadows of the gloomy cells turning his angular features from handsome to monstrous. ‘It’s time.’ 

Scorpius dusted his hands off and gave a grin that was inexplicable even to himself. ‘Do I get to know what it’s time _for_?’ 

‘Follow me,’ was the only answer. 

He did, trooping out the room and down the long corridor. He remembered this section of passageways, and he knew they were headed for the central chamber. Something cold sliced into the back of his mind, but he gritted his teeth, shunted it to one side. It was not time to panic. ‘Do I get to know?’ Thane had two of his flunkeys with him, but they looked no more likely answer. 

‘You’ll see. We’ll explain,’ said Thane, and pushed the door open to the main chamber. 

The ice spread down Scorpius’ spine, took up residence in his heart, and his veins became like a spiderweb frozen on a winter’s morning. The Veil was as dominant as ever, the pool of grey shadows ebbing with a silence that loomed over all sound or echoes. He could see the wizards of the Council of Thorns bustling about, saw the scaffolding towering over the Veil itself, but none of that could drown out the whispers. 

_Not foolishness. Simply sensible._   
  
They were louder than they’d been last time. 

_After all. I_ _’m the best at this._   
  
‘What the hell are you doing, messing with a Veil?’ When Scorpius spoke, his voice sounded as if it was coming from a long way away. 

‘You make it sound like you know what this _is_ , what its power is,’ said Thane, and grabbed him by the arm to pull him across the chamber, towards the base of the scaffold. 

‘Then explain it to me.’ 

‘I’m not going to do that.’ Thane’s voice was colder and tighter than he’d ever heard it, more devoid of warmth than even on the back of a golem-dragon in Tomar. An absent part of Scorpius’ mind wondered what _he_ could hear, but then they were drawing up to the tallest wizard there, clad in black and as still as death. ‘He will.’ 

_It_ _’s now or never. He’s fading, fast._   
  
Scorpius had never met Colonel Raskoph, but it was clear who stood before him, clear who commanded authority even over Prometheus Thane. Pale, empty eyes met his, and while there was recognition, there was something else there, a hard sort of hatred he couldn’t understand. ‘Scorpius Malfoy.’ 

‘ _Hi_.’ Scorpius swallowed bile. ‘So, I’m your volunteer.’ 

‘You make it sound as if you had a choice.’ 

‘I could be thrashing and screaming. That’d make this _really_ awkward. But in exchange for my cooperation, you’ll let the others…’ His voice trailed off as he met those grey eyes, and the kernel of cynicism in his gut reared its head once again. Scorpius’ throat went dry. ‘You have no intention of letting the others go.’ 

‘Some of them,’ said Raskoph. ‘If you struggle, I _will_ kill them all. Will that suffice?’ 

Scorpius’ hands clenched into fists and his eyes darted around the chamber. There were about twenty wizards in the room, all of them recruits of Prometheus Thane and Raskoph, and he didn’t have a wand. He wouldn’t be able to _twitch_ before he was hit by a dozen Stuns, at best, and then there’d be consequences… 

_You_ _’ve lost_ , hissed a voice in his ear which wasn’t an echo of death. He hoped it wasn’t a premonition. _They_ _’ve got you, they’ve got the Chalice, and if you don’t all die, most of you will. You’re actually damned this time._   
  
‘What’re you doing here?’ was all he asked in the end, his voice filled with ashes. 

Raskoph gave a flourish of the wrist towards the scaffolding which could only be mocking. ‘Welcome, Malfoy, to Project Starfall. Because the rising star that was Eridanos is falling, and something new shall come from its remains.’ 

Scorpius looked to the Veil, the scaffolding, then back to Raskoph. ‘You make these plagues from sites of necromantic energy. This place is infested in it from the Veil, from the battle. So you’re going to make _another_ one, aren’t you? That’s why you need the Chalice, and it’s why you scouted this place out, too? You didn’t just need the item, you needed the right location.’ 

‘And the Chalice has been delivered to us.’ Raskoph reached into his robes to pull the cup out, that golden cup which had started all of this and, Scorpius, feared, doomed them all. ‘Despite your best efforts. So there is no more time to waste.’ 

‘Why do you need _another_ plague?’ Scorpius’ expression twisted. ‘I saw Eridanos, I saw Brillig. You seemed to be killing people _perfectly_ fine.’ 

‘Brillig was a test site,’ said a new voice, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose as he turned to stare down Eva Saida, who slunk out of the gathered crowd of wizards. ‘Not just the last demonstration of Eridanos’ power. But th- we were trying to make it better.’ 

For her, at least, he still had rage, and his fists clenched as he rounded on the traitor. ‘You saw the _things_ Eridanos made. What the hell was wrong with _them_?’ 

‘Control,’ said Eva. ‘It’s one thing to create an army of powerful, intelligent Inferi. But then they need to be commanded. Eridanos didn’t do that, not fully. But the mechanisms have been perfected, and it’s time for a _new_ plague. One which will provide the perfect, biddable soldiers.’ 

Raskoph gave Thane a look. ‘Is this _necessary_? I do not require him to understand.’ 

‘I’ll be more cooperative,’ growled Scorpius, ‘if I understand what the hell’s going on.’ 

‘Hell is correct, Malfoy,’ said Raskoph, impassive. ‘From the fires of Phlegethon, from the depth and power of Eridanos, the Council of Thorns’ new weapon will arise. And it is so perfect, so much my perfect vengeance, that you will be the vessel. Through you we will bring the oblivion of Lethe.’ 

Scorpius’ throat tightened. ‘I’m going to regret this,’ he said, ‘but “vessel”?’ 

Raskoph ignored him and turned to Thane. ‘Let us begin.’ He handed the Chalice over, the other man stony-faced as he accepted it. 

‘Oh, no.’ Scorpius jerked back, away from Thane. ‘There’s going to be a lot of struggling if I don’t -’ 

But he’d moved closer to Eva, and it was she who grabbed his shoulders. ‘It’ll go better if you cooperate.’ 

He shrugged off her grip, whirled to face her. ‘With _you_? Never. _You_ can keep your hands off me and keep the _hell_ away, because I promise that if there’s a single _one_ of you I get a pop at…’ It was impotent anger, desperate anger, terror rising in him and demanding he lash out at something because it gave him the slightest hint of control in the face of the abyss yawning before him. And out of all of them, she was the one he could hate the most. 

Then Prometheus Thane had an iron grip on him, hauling him back. ‘With me, Malfoy. This won’t kill you. We need you alive.’ 

He’d thought that would be comforting. The uncertainty of what _else_ would happen bubbled in his gut to kill any reassurance. ‘Then keep this bitch _out_ of my sight!’ It was the most petty of demands, but it was one he thought he stood a chance at, and getting his own way in even the smallest, most petulant way sounded better than not getting his own way at all. 

Thane gave Eva a look, and she lifted a hand, backed off, faded into the crowd. Within seconds, Scorpius found that without her to hate, it was an awful lot harder to stop the thudding in his heart, the dryness of his throat, but he didn’t dare struggle against Thane’s grasp as he was dragged to the scaffold. If he was doomed, he had to minimise the damage to the others. The only thing he’d gain from resistance was their punishment. 

So he followed Thane to the ramp up the scaffolding. 

‘We’re going to create the Lethe plague _in_ you,’ said Thane, his voice low - low enough, Scorpius realised, that Raskoph couldn’t hear them, which set his mind into as much of a horrendous swirl as his words did. Was it possible that Thane was trying to _reassure_ him? ‘You’ll be a host for it, which we can then contain the way we’ve contained the previous plagues.’ 

‘And that won’t infect the room?’ 

‘Like Eridanos, it’ll take more than sharing breathing space to spread it. It’s probable that the immunities against Phlegethon, which worked against Eridanos, will work against Lethe - for us. But once it’s over, we have golems in the next room who will handle you. Just to be sure.’ 

Scorpius couldn’t swallow the lump of ice in his throat. ‘And then I get to be a test subject so you can see how horrible it is?’ 

‘We’ll be able to siphon it off before you’ve suffering too badly,’ said Thane, hand on his shoulder less commandingly tight. Almost reassuring. ‘We’re not going to lock you up and watch it kill you. You’re not going to die. I doubt your father would approve of that very much.’ 

It was odd, Scorpius marvelled, how eventually the body became incapable of feeling further shock. He was too scared stiff to more than blink at that. ‘So he is involved, after all.’ He didn’t want to linger on that thought. ‘So why use me?’ 

‘A pureblood’s body is more accustomed to the presence of magics in their body. Else Raskoph would have _much_ preferred to use one of the half-bloods amongst you.’ Of all things, Thane sounded _wry_. 

‘Then why the Veil?’ Asking questions was easiest, he thought as they trooped up the scaffold ramps. It meant he didn’t have to ask what happened _after_ this. ‘Why the Chalice?’ 

‘Veils are passageways between the realms of the living and the dead. They’re locked gates, containing the energies of a tainted place such as Ager Sanguinis. The plagues are infused with the energies of the realms of the dead, but _opening_ these Veils, the passageways, is difficult and dangerous. The Chalice…’ 

‘…is both realms, bridges the gap, allows you to use Veils safely and freely. Exciting. Right. I get it.’ They reached the top of the scaffold to find the platform that stretched _over_ the Veil itself, its shimmering, grey silken and ghostly pools looming beneath them. The boards of the platform had already been prepared, sigils and ritual markings carved into the wood. 

Thane let go and nodded to the platform. ‘Step into the centre.’ 

Choices were limited. If he got himself beaten or killed, or got one of the _others_ beaten or killed… 

Scorpius clenched his jaw and padded across the markings into the central circle. At once he could feel the fizzing of the air around him, like his presence had sparked something to life. He didn’t want to turn around, didn’t want to see Thane, _or_ look at the Veil below, so his gaze went to the crowds of the wizards of the Council of Thorns. They’d stopped what they were doing, gathered up in an excited audience to watch what was about to happen. 

_I feel like I_ _’m on stage with the Weird Sisters, except I’m about to become the host for a new, evil plague of death._   
  
He could see Raskoph at the front, tall and impassive. His expression had barely changed through the conversation; why would it change now? Eva Saida, the traitor, he couldn’t see in the crowd. Perhaps she’d left to ensure his cooperation. Perhaps the guilt he’d swear he could feel rolling off her had got too much, perhaps she couldn’t watch the fruits of her labour. 

Then Thane began chanting behind him, magic crackled in the air about his head, the Veil _swirled_ under him, and other people were at the absolute bottom of Scorpius’ priority list. 

_This is a long shot, you hear me? If this doesn_ _’t work, it’s not because you didn’t try enough or didn’t care enough._   
  
_Tell Selena I will be thinking of her._   
  
The markings around the inscriptions at his feet blazed to a shadowy light, a black energy which sucked in any of the sunlight creeping through the hole above. A glance over his shoulder showed Thane, wand in one hand, the Chalice of Emrys extended in the other, those same shadowy energies ebbing from the cup in a thin, sickly tendril. 

The crackling at the back of his neck stopped feeling like the fizzing optimism of pure magic, of a summer’s morning after a rainstorm, and became something altogether colder, sicker. 

_I guess it_ _’s time to find out if I’m a genius after all._   
  
_You have been a good friend, Scorpius._   
  
And the Veil swirled underneath, a sleeping beast of darkness and death stirred to agitation. Spiderwebs of grey echoes and energies reached upwards like long, warped fingers, and Scorpius had to grip his arm, plunge his nails into his wrist to keep calm, to compel himself to stay _still_. If there was one thing which scared him more than this ritual, it was the knowledge that disrupting a ritual partway through never ended well. 

The darkness from the Chalice, from the ritual markings, flowed together, intertwining with the tendrils from the Veil like a weave, black and grey mingled and swirling around him. Faces swarmed in and out of the miasma, some indistinct and unknown - but others he recognised. Methuselah, Tim, Spinks, his grandfather. How long it was there, this vortex of magic and shadows and death, he didn’t know. And when it started to subside, when Thane’s chanting from behind him fell silent, his first thought was, _I don_ _’t feel any different_. 

Then the energies faded fully, and he felt the chill in his bones stay with him, the hairs on the back of his neck stay up, and though he didn’t feel any more nauseous or light-headed than he already did from sheer terror, Scorpius knew, with every beat of his heart, that something in him was _wrong_. 

Thane’s expression was flat, blue eyes cold and assessing when he turned around. ‘It’s done.’ 

Scorpius drew a breath that raked on his dry throat. ‘So I’ve upheld -’ 

And any bargain was lost in the thunderous sound of masonry exploding and shattering. The platform shuddered, and Scorpius lunged for the railing in terrified instinct, clutching for dear life before looking down. 

One of the chamber walls had been blown in, chunks of masonry scattered about, and through the risen dust and debris he could see some Council wizards had been hit. Then through the hole they came, a half-dozen of them, clanking figures in plate armour with mechanical, unnatural movements that he knew well. 

_Golems? What the hell -_   
  
They surged into the Council wizards with swinging fists, any spells flung at them deflecting off their armour or their stony hides, and all fell to chaos. Scorpius could hear Raskoph bellowing instructions, telling his subordinates how to bring them down, but it was madness as solid metal and stone thudded into brittle bones and soft flesh. 

Then there were _new_ voices shouting spells, and these weren’t the Council wizards. Looking around wildly, Scorpius saw one of the doors burst open, saw the figures who lunged into the chamber, moved for cover, started hurling their attacks into the chaos, and his heart surged. 

_They_ _’re free._   
  
The scaffold stopped creaking, and Thane let go of the railing to stalk to the centre of the platform. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he muttered as if Scorpius wasn’t there. ‘They’re too late.’ 

He had probably ignored him, Scorpius reasoned, because he didn’t have a wand. That made him not a threat, and from up high, Thane could lift his own wand, level it at the witches and wizards daring to defy him. Pick his targets, take his time, bring whatever he wanted to bear down upon them. 

But this wasn’t the first time Scorpius had flying tackled anyone, least of all Thane himself. His shoulder thudded into his side and they both hit the platform, scrambling, kicking, punching. Scorpius snatched at a wrist and twisted it, only to find himself clutching the Chalice of Emrys, not Thane’s wand. 

_Only one thing for it._ He rolled towards the edge, and stuck his hand out over the Veil. ‘Call them off!’ he bellowed at Thane, even if the man was over him, wand extended. ‘Or I drop this and you’ll never fucking get it back!’ 

Thane drew a sharp, hissing breath. ‘We’ve done the ritual; what makes you think -’ 

‘You haven’t checked if it’s _worked_. You might need to do it again. This thing is _invaluable_ to you. Call them the hell off!’ 

A small part of Scorpius’ mind wondered how Thane was supposed to call the Council off when they were being attacked by golems, too, and God knew where _those_ had come from. He glanced into the fight where the armoured figures sawed their way through the wizards, just in time to see one of them lift a man and hurl him _into_ the scaffolding. 

_Oh, no._   
  
The platform _lurched_. On his back, Scorpius couldn’t do more than flail, and then there was nothing beneath his back, nothing beneath his feet, and only by sheer panic did his hand shoot out to clutch the edge of the wooden boards of the platform - 

\- which stopped him from falling into the Veil. His legs swung with nothing to find purchase on, his knuckles turned white from clinging to support his entire weight, and the chaos around him faded to irrelevance. 

_After all. I_ _’m the best at this._   
  
_I guess it_ _’s time to find out if I’m a genius after all._   
  
And the echoes of death rushed up to meet him. 

Then there was a firm hand on his wrist, and Thane’s head appeared over the edge, eyes wide. ‘Give me the Chalice!’ he bellowed. 

‘So you can _drop_ me?’ Scorpius’ other hand was still holding the Chalice only because it hadn’t occurred to him to let go. His grip on the platform was weak by now, and he knew it was only Thane’s hold that keept him up there. ‘Pull me up!’ 

‘With one hand? Give me the Chalice so I _can_ pull-’ 

And Thane’s grasp on his wrist slipped. 

There was a split second where Scorpius thought, ridiculously, that Thane and the platform were getting _smaller_. Then he realised what was happening, and all he could do was scream. 

Plummeting. Wind rushing past him, hands flailing, grasping, trying to find his purchase on something, _anything_ but the cool metal in his hand - and finding only air. 

Then the ground - no, that _nothing_ \- racing up towards him, all-black, all-consuming, and when he hit there was a sense of the endless, swirling void - 

And then no sense at all.

* * 

Rose’s heart stopped. 

A spell flew over her shoulder and hit masonry, showering her in debris. Matt grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away from the blast - then he, too, looked up, saw, and froze. Just as Scorpius hit the surface of the Veil, and disappeared. 

She knew the stories of her parents’ past. She’d heard all of the adventures of Harry Potter. All of the impossible things he’d done, the crazy things he’d seen, the people he’d lost. Like his Godfather, fallen through a Veil himself. Dead. Gone. 

Albus had been under the Cloak of Invisibility, an unseen fighter flinging spells into the chaos and causing almost as much damage to the Council Wizards as the golems. But she knew he’d seen Scorpius fall when she heard his roar of fury, even if it was no more than a background echo in the ringing in her ears. He pulled the cloak from him, rounded on the wizards, no longer set to hit and run, strike and evade, but _charge_. Hurt. 

Seconds ago, they’d been bursting in, unsure how Eva had unleashed a team of golems on the Council of Thorns, but it had been their opportunity to even the odds, to bring them down and save Scorpius and run. Now, none of it mattered. Now there was no plan, no fight, nothing to save. Nothing at all left. 

He was gone. 

Matt’s hand on her arm tightened. ‘Rose! _Rose_! He’s gone, we’ve got to _go!_ _’_   
  
_He can_ _’t be gone. He comes back. Every time, every time he -_   
  
But she didn’t have the strength to fight, and he started to drag her across the chamber, around the scaffolding, around the fight. Selena was next to them, bringing up shields rather than fighting back. Matt kept shouting, now for Albus to come with them, to move, to _run_ … 

Thudding footsteps. Bursts of magic. The cracking of metal and stone on flesh, of the golems bringing down wizards who tried to bring them down in turn. Spells and life and death and the stones of Ager Sanguinis quivering around them with the impact of it all. 

And none of it mattered. It could have been happening to someone else, a dream of someone else’s nightmare running before her eyes, and she had no capacity to reach out and affect _any_ of it. To do a single thing except run as Matt dragged her, to watch as Albus gave an anguished noise and burst into a sprint after them. They ran through the door to the stairway, and Matt let go of her to lunge on the right steps, smacking the Greek symbols so hard she’d have thought his wand would break if she could _care_ about any such thing. Then the stairway moved, the passageway was in sight, and Matt had her arm again, was dragging her, stumbling and staggering into the darkness. 

They ran. They ran until they got to the hidden chamber where they’d found de Sablé’s notes, where the Chalice had once rested, and Matt dragged her down the turn deeper into the mountainside, the one they thought, _hoped_ was another exit. If it wasn’t, they were all dead - and Rose couldn’t bring herself to give a damn about that. 

_He_ _’s gone. He’s gone. He’s not coming back._   
  
Footsteps thudded behind them in the distance, and Matt shouted something she found no meaning in. She only put on another burst of speed because he did, and because it was easier than to be dragged - and then daylight shone ahead, bright and blinding and full of a warmth she couldn’t feel. 

Sand. Rock. A path leading its winding way through the cliffs and mountains into which Ager Sanguinis was built, and she didn’t know where it led, but it went _away_ , and that would have to do because the Council wizards, Thane and Raskoph and maybe even Saida, hadn’t given up their pursuit, she could hear them behind - 

She tripped. Her foot hit a rock, because her legs felt like lead and didn’t obey her commands properly, and she fell, wrenched from Matt’s grip, on her hands and knees. Her breath flew from her lungs and even though she heard Matt swear, wheel around, grab her shoulder, she couldn’t bring herself to move. 

_It doesn_ _’t matter. Scorpius is dead. It doesn’t matter._   
  
‘Rose!’ Matt was bellowing, trying to haul her like dead weight. Next to him, Albus reeled to face the Council, brandishing his wand and looking like a last stand was _exactly_ what he wanted. Selena tugged at his arm, but to no avail, and whoever they were, the Council wizards thundered out of the passageway - 

_Crack_. 

Apparition. Figures swirling in the air, witches and wizards appearing in their midst and turning on the Council. With mute confusion, Rose looked up to recognise the tall shape of Matt’s father, some faces she recognised only very, very vaguely. A witch in a grey, shabby greatcoat helped Matt haul her to her feet and flung a Stun at the Council at the same time. Albus shrugged off Selena’s arm, only for another, huge figure to grab him by the elbow, and Rose squinted as she recognised - of all people - Reynald de Sablé, strong enough to drag him back. 

Only then did she remember that Matt had summoned his father’s help with the calling card, and that this had to be, at last, the cavalry, crossing a continent as fast as they could. 

_Not fast enough_ , was all she could think when they were bundled together, a Portkey ring thrust into their hands, and the world warped around them as they were twisted and dragged across the world. 

She knew that when the world rushed back into reality, it would never be the same again for her.

* * 

‘Your husband, Mrs Doyle, violated about _eighteen_ international codes, not to mention domestic laws regarding vigilante actions against -’ 

‘I had at least one member of the Auror Division with me,’ said Gabriel Doyle, examining his fingernails without regard for the venomous glare Lillian Rourke had locked onto him. ‘I don’t think that makes it vigilante action.’ 

Matt watched, hands clenching the armrests of his chair, sat in the office of the empty warehouse where his father and his people had brought them from Ager Sanguinis. They were back in Britain, he thought, some isolated place where there had been Healers ready to tend to them, where they could sit down and rest and recover. Or, such had been the plan. When his father realised he’d only rescued four people, Floo calls had been made. Parents had been summoned, but that also precipitated an impromptu, behind-closed-doors gathering of some of the most important faces in British politics and anti-terrorism. 

Rose and Albus’ parents were still with them in the main warehouse. Selena had stayed to try to help bring them up to speed. Matt had thought this considerate of her when he’d slunk into the office to try to get a moment to himself, a cup of tea, a breather. Then Lillian Rourke had stormed in with his parents and Matt had realised Selena was just canny. 

‘The Auror Division,’ his mother was saying to Lillian, far more poised and professional than her husband, ‘will confirm they dispatched Captain Cole with the expedition.’ 

Lillian planted her hands on the desk and scowled. ‘Yes, of course Harry Potter’s going to say he signed off on this, even though he _clearly_ didn’t have a clue, because if he’d _had_ a clue he’d have been with you in Syria!’ 

‘I’m sure,’ said Jen Doyle, ‘that Harry knows his presence causes disruption wherever he goes and was keen to minimise any upset.’ 

‘No, your _husband_ didn’t want to raise the profile of this illegal international action by including a _celebrity_ on the team’s roster.’ 

‘I think that’s neither here nor there. The Auror Division were involved,’ said Jen. Behind her, perched on the desk, Gabriel scrubbed his forehead with a weary, frustrated hand. ‘You cannot claim this was vigilante action -’ 

‘Then I need,’ said Lillian, voice tight, ‘to take action against the Auror Division for an unsanctioned _incursion_ of Syrian territory and the illegal abduction of civilians.’ 

Jen squinted. ‘Civilians?’ 

‘She means the Council of Wizards members bagged and dragged back for interrogation,’ sighed Gabriel. 

She looked back to Lillian and arched an eyebrow. ‘With respect, Ms Rourke, this is ridiculous. We rescue four of our children from Council hands and arrest some of their members, and you’re in here complaining like -’ 

‘Of _course_ I’m happy you got them home!’ snapped Lillian. ‘But you know as well as I do, Mrs Doyle, that we live in a world of rules and laws, and that we cannot simply stage what, in technical terms, was an _invasion_ of Syrian territory -’ 

‘Syria isn’t going to protest!’ Jen’s lips thinned to an angry line. ‘Syria is going to be too busy covering itself for letting that many Council wizards with that much magical equipment and reagents into the country. The world will want to know how _they_ let this happen, not how British citizens stopped it.’ 

‘I have enemies in the IMC; enemies who will _love_ to say that I’ve allowed this to happen because it was my own daughter on the line -’ 

‘That sounds like not _my_ problem.’ Gabriel looked up, dark eyes blazing. ‘I did what I had to. Now, you can arrest me, in which case you need to arrest half the Auror Division’s command staff, the head of the Department of Legal Affairs, and _probably_ the Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Director of the Contagion Task Force. Or, you can shut up, and say “thank you, Mister Doyle, for rescuing my daughter”. I invited you as Selena’s mother to come see her, _not_ as the Chairman of the IMC to come and vomit your political woes all over me.’ 

Matt winced at the desk as Lillian Rourke drew a sharp breath. When she spoke, her voice was iron tight. ‘I am going to go out there,’ she said, ‘and see my daughter. But this situation is _not_ over, Mister Doyle.’ 

His father mouthed silent thanks at her departure as Lillian left, ignoring the disapproving look from his wife, but it wasn’t until she shut the door that Gabriel spoke again. ‘Ungrateful bloody bureaucrat -’ 

‘It’s not ingratitude,’ said Jen, watching the door with a guarded expression. ‘It’s fear. You responded to a Council threat today as a private citizen and were more efficient than the IMC. That threatens her leadership, that threatens the IMC, and it threatens her as a parent to know that all her power was not as capable in saving her child as yours.’ 

A sneer tugged at Gabriel’s lip. ‘I have less than no patience if she wants to jump through hoops -’ 

‘Those hoops are the _law_ , dear; lack of accountability is exactly what I’ve warned -’ 

‘Mum. Dad.’ Matt didn’t move, stared still at the desk. ‘I don’t - no more arguments. Or fussing about the political ramifications of today. Please.’ 

They fell into a guilty silence at once, and his mother moved to his side, put her hands to his shoulder in a protective manner he was unashamed to say was comforting. He had little need to pretend to be a grown-up today, and even less pride. He looked at his father. ‘Thank you. Thanks for coming after us.’ 

The corners of Gabriel’s eyes crinkled. ‘You’re my son. I don’t care if Rourke gets me locked up for this. I wasn’t going to do nothing. I’ve been doing nothing for too long.’ 

Matt nodded, and reflected on how being powerless when the ones you loved were hurting or in danger was, perhaps, the worst thing of all. Then he frowned. ‘You found de Sablé?’ 

‘I kept tabs on him after he left Tomar,’ was the shameless response. ‘It seems he’s wanted to gather modern remnants of the Templars. So I’ve been funding him for that.’ 

_Of course you have. With your resources as an international fucking information broker._ But he couldn’t summon bewilderment at that, or even resentment at this second life of his father’s. It had saved their lives. Matt lifted a hand to his shoulder, grasped his mother’s. ‘What happens now?’ 

‘Nothing has to happen now,’ said Jen. ‘We take this one a day at a time. You come home, and we help you find normalcy again. And, when you’re ready, at a rate _you_ _’re_ ready, you help your friends.’ 

Matt gave a gentle, humourless snort. ‘They’re going to need the help way more than me. And they’re going to need it now.’ He drew a careful, guilty breath. ‘Is it wrong of me to say I didn’t even _like_ Scorpius Malfoy that much?’ 

His father, to his astonishment, gave a short, sad laugh before he swallowed it; at the surprised look from Matt and accusing look from his wife, he lifted his hands. ‘Dying doesn’t make someone a saint. Don’t feel bad for remembering someone how they were. Just, well. Pick your audiences.’ 

Matt’s lips twisted. ‘I’m not about to go tell Rose and Albus that. Oh, hell.’ He leaned forward, buried his face in his hands. ‘I don’t know where any of this goes next and I’m one of the few people who’s halfway in one piece.’ 

Jen’s hand on his shoulder tightened. ‘It’s like I said. One day at a time. And we’re here with you. Everyone is.’ 

He got to his feet, not shrugging off her hand. ‘We should get out there. I just wanted a moment; I should see the others…’ 

His parents didn’t stop him, and he padded into the remarkably well-equipped ‘abandoned warehouse’ he was starting to suspect his father kept as a staging ground for insane international expeditions, just in case. Idly he wondered if he’d always had this, or if the Council threat had precipitated such action. The place sported a Healer’s station, potions brewing equipment, the padding and dummies for wand-training. Had he felt less numb, less worried and exhausted, he’d be worried about his father being a rather terrifying man. 

To his very little surprise, Albus and Rose were gone. Selena was stood with her mother, but pulled away from to cross the warehouse towards Matt. It was all he could do to respond in kind when she threw her arms around him. ‘I’ll see you soon,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘We’ll be okay. We’ll make this all okay.’ 

‘I know.’ On an instinct he didn’t understand he kissed her forehead, then let her go to leave with the angry, stalking shape of Lillian Rourke. That left only two guests, two occupants of the warehouse who weren’t on his father’s payroll or favours list, and they had not left with their children. 

‘Ginny and Ron took Albus and Rose home,’ Hermione Granger explained as she approached the Doyles with Harry Potter. ‘We wanted to… to take stock…’ 

‘Thank you,’ Harry interrupted, straight to the point, and shook Matt’s father’s hand. 

Gabriel shook his head. ‘I did what I could. I only wish it was more. And it looks like Rourke doesn’t know if she should thank me or arrest me.’ 

Hermione looked around. ‘This sort of independent action _is_ legally suspect,’ she said, and cast a look at Jennifer Doyle, head of the Office of Legal Affairs and technically her immediate subordinate. Jen gave an amiable, uncaring smile. 

‘If you don’t have a rainy day fund and resources,’ said Gabriel, ‘then I suggest you rectify that. Unless Rourke can get more control of the IMC, this sort of situation is going to get worse, not better.’ 

‘I don’t think,’ said Hermione, ‘that undermining her authority and the IMC by acting independently is going to help her get the power to keep fighting the Council. Besides, the Council failed today. They lost their new plague, and with the Chalice gone for good, this will set them back in making another one. If this quietens down we’ll be seeing _less_ IMC power, not more.’ 

Gabriel didn’t look convinced, shoving his hands in his pockets. ‘You know Lillian Rourke and her relationship with power better than I.’ 

Harry cleared his throat. ‘I think politics and the world can wait for another day,’ he said. ‘I just wanted to thank you. And, also, ask one more question: does Draco know his son’s dead?’ 

‘Hell.’ Gabriel closed his eyes. ‘Someone better tell him before Rourke or the press does. I can go; we’ve done some of the same parties, we were Slytherins…’ 

But his reticence was obvious, and Harry shook his head. ‘No. No, I’ll do it.’ 

Hermione nodded. ‘I’ll go with you. Then we should get back to _our_ families.’ 

‘Yeah.’ Harry frowned at the ground, and Matt suddenly felt like an interloper, the child amongst parents who were united in their latest trial - the question of how to help your children going through this sort of trouble, this sort of grief. 

‘If you want,’ said Jen quietly, ‘if Rose is struggling, I have some grasp of what she’s going through. I’ll help if I can. We should _all_ help each other, if we can.’ 

‘Thank you,’ said Hermione, but the look in her eye was distant, pained, and while Matt had no doubt his mother’s offer had been genuine, it seemed like they were all about to march off into their own, private hells. ‘But we’ll see. We should go and see Draco. And I suspect that nothing is going to make this better so much as _time_.’


	53. Wander Forth the Sons

Hermione Granger hadn’t set foot in Malfoy Manor for years. She had tried, once, in the early days of her work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, when Draco Malfoy had been trying to clear up the family name and make it something respectable again, and that occasionally included throwing fundraisers for causes she didn’t find _entirely_ despicable. 

He’d been turning over a fresh leaf, she’d thought. And she had a responsibility as a notable member of the Ministry to show her support for such causes, and even send a message that old enemies like him could be forgiven, welcomed and encouraged when they chose to fight the good fight. So she’d gone to a party, dressed up and dragged Ron with her, and he hadn’t grumbled because he’d known this was going to be harder for her than him. Instead of grumbling and sulking, he’d done his impression of the protective shadow, a looming presence to ward off anything that would upset her, and be the arm she could lean on if she needed it. 

Of course, he couldn’t ward off the past. She’d made it an hour in the hustling bustle of the dining hall, but then the initial introductions and basic obligations were over, and she didn’t have etiquette and formalities to distract her. She’d thought she was doing well, until she’d taken a look at a picture of some distant Malfoy ancestor on the wall and thought, _Oh, I remember staring at that while Bellatrix Lestrange cast the Cruciatus on me._ Because the pain had been more bearable if she could focus on something _but_ the pain. 

Ten years later, it this time brought it back. She hadn’t even known she’d faltered, but Ron had been by her side in a flash. Perhaps she’d explained, perhaps she’d not; she didn’t remember asking to leave, but he’d taken her without bothering to apologise to anyone and the night air had been like a soothing breeze on the scars of the past. 

The scars did not disappear, though. She’d been glad they’d left Rose and Hugo at Ron’s parents for the night, because even if they’d been back before nine, it had been an evening to spend huddled up with her husband, trying to keep her breathing even and her heart from thudding its way out of her chest. A time to be a survivor of a war which never quite ended, not a time to be a parent responsible for her children’s future. 

She’d never been back to Malfoy Manor. That had become more justifiable as time went on and Draco Malfoy’s dabble with philanthropy faded as his marriage failed and his business ventures became more and more international. The one perk of being so famous was that when she declined to be the office’s representative in any future events, nobody pushed the issue. They knew enough to guess at the reason. 

There’d been a wondering, though, when she’d learnt of her daughter’s relationship with Scorpius Malfoy, if she was going to have to face the past again. The son had borne little love for the father, at least, and left home, and that made it unlikely there were going to be any awkward in-laws sort of dinners. Ron had told her to not fuss, that it was a bridge they’d cross if it happened, and anyway, Scorpius seemed a sensible sort of lad and thought his father was an arse, so they all had something in common. 

Of all the ways Hermione had imagined going back to Malfoy Manor, this was not it. 

Harry rattled the closed gates, and gritted his teeth. ‘He’s _still_ in isolation? The stubborn bugger.’ She was happy to let him take the lead, because he’d always been more forgiving of the Malfoys. Since the war, Harry didn’t hold grudges. 

But he did, apparently, break and enter when necessary. A swish of the wand sent the gates creaking open despite all magical defences, and he shrugged. ‘Auror authority. It opens doors. Literally.’ They walked up the drive past gardens that had been allowed to grow wild, towards a house where most windows were shuttered or showed dusty, abandoned rooms. ‘He’s been odd the past couple of years.’ 

‘You’d know better than I.’ 

‘Not really.’ Harry winced. ‘Al was always private about his friendship with Scorpius. I tried to make it clear he was just as welcome as anyone else, but they never spent time together outside of Hogwarts. So it’s not like I saw Draco like you saw the Kirkes or the Doyles because of Rosie’s friendships.’ 

Hermione’s lips thinned. ‘I don’t know how I’m going to begin to help her through this.’ 

‘I know. I thought our children wouldn’t have to deal with these sorts of things.’ 

‘There are times I remember that I was, despite it all, _really_ lucky in the war.’ He gave her a curious look, and she shrugged. ‘I didn’t lose you. Or Ron. There was Fred, and there was helping Lavender with her recovery. People I cried for and grieved for but nothing like _this_.’ 

‘I struggle to imagine it,’ Harry conceded. Then they were at the doors to the Manor, and he took a deep breath. ‘…what Draco’s about to go through, though, I _can_ imagine.’ 

They’d thought they’d lost their children. Being wrong, the reprieve from a parent’s worst nightmare, had been a miracle when she’d thought they’d used all of those up. The idea of that miracle being taken away had kept her up at night. 

Harry slammed his fist on the door before she could over-think this, and didn’t wait before calling. ‘Draco! It’s Harry. We need to talk.’ 

‘Words to put fear in his heart,’ Hermione murmured. 

‘He’ll forget everything I’ve said.’ More hammering. ‘Draco!’ 

After a moment, the door swung open to reveal a House Elf, and Hermione had to fight back the instinctive objections rising in her. She knew of all of the blacklisting the unions had placed against the Malfoy family. They still used the old ways when it came to House Elves; the sackcloth this one wore was evidence enough, and no doubt this was a creature who hadn’t been encouraged to embrace the rights available to it. 

‘If you follow me, Sir, Madam, Master Draco will see you.’ Rigby gave a stiff, formal little bow, and Hermione found herself clasping her hands behind her back in a bid for iron control as they followed the House Elf through the dusty, gloomy halls of the manor where Voldemort had once held court, and where she’d once been imprisoned and tortured. 

They did not go into the dining hall, much to her relief. Most of the manor was covered in dust sheets, even the portraits, but Rigby led them to the one wing of the house which looked occupied. He reached a solid wooden door he knocked on once before opening, and ushered them in. He himself stayed out. 

The fire in the study was crackling away despite that it was only noon, Draco Malfoy stood before it. One hand rested on the mantelpiece as he gazed into the flames, and had this been any other day, Hermione would have cynically assumed he was trying to paint himself as lord of the manor for his visitors. 

Harry kept his expression schooled as he stepped in. ‘Draco.’ 

Draco turned, one eyebrow quirked with vague disinterest - but something in his gaze froze. They could not have good poker faces in a time like this. ‘What’s happened?’ 

‘I’m sorry,’ said Harry. ‘Scorpius is dead.’ 

Draco’s hand dropped. ‘What?’ 

‘They were captured by the Council of Thorns in Syria,’ said Hermione. Facts were needed, or so she felt; facts might not bring comfort but they could bring _certainty_ , and that was essential. ‘The Council were doing a ritual there to create a new plague, and it included a Veil, and -’ 

‘They killed him,’ interrupted Harry. She cast him a confused glance but he didn’t look at her, and she knew the signal to stay silent and trust his lead for now. ‘Rose, Albus, Matthias Doyle and Selena Rourke - they got out, but your son didn’t. I’m so, so sorry.’ 

For a moment, Draco stared _through_ them, his pale grey eyes unseeing. Then he drew a sharp breath. ‘Do we have a body this time?’ 

‘It wasn’t recovered,’ said Harry. ‘But he’s gone. This is certain. I’m sorry.’ 

‘It was certain last time -’ 

‘This was witnessed.’ 

Draco took another moment, looking between them as if seeking some indication of deception - then he turned his back, stared into the fire. ‘You may go.’ 

Harry stepped forward. ‘Draco -’ 

‘ _Leave_!’ 

Hermione put a hand on Harry’s arm. ‘We’re here if you need us, Draco. Please believe that.’ But he didn’t answer, so she tugged on Harry’s sleeve, led him into the corridor where Rigby guided them back outside without ceremony. Harry’s expression was set, a deep frown on his face the moment they were out of the room, but she waited until they were trooping down the driveway before she pressed the point. 

‘You didn’t explain about the Veil -’ 

‘I did him a kindness,’ said Harry sharply. ‘I wasted a lot of pain and hope on wondering if falling through a Veil meant Sirius was _really_ dead. He’ll learn the truth eventually; I didn’t lie. But he needed the facts down. He needed to understand, or he’ll wonder. Or, so I thought.’ 

‘What?’ 

‘Draco’s a better liar than he used to be.’ Harry didn’t look back as he stalked down the drive, filled with a new agitation she didn’t understand. ‘But I’m better at seeing a bluff. He pretended very well, but I know what I saw. He wasn’t surprised. He already knew Scorpius was dead.’ 

Hermione’s heart tightened. ‘Lillian?’ 

‘He’d have _said_ , wouldn’t he. But he didn’t. Which means he wasn’t officially _supposed_ to know yet.’ 

‘And what does that mean?’ 

Harry let out a deep breath as they crossed the threshold beyond Malfoy Manor’s grounds, passed through the gates that swung shut behind them with a _clank_. He glared at them for a moment, and she knew that look, knew he was chewing over evidence and facts and theories and coming up with nothing either definitive, nor that he liked. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted at last. ‘But nothing good.’

* * 

Two days, and the papers wasted no time in declaring Scorpius Malfoy a hero once the facts had leaked. His father had grumbled about Gabriel Doyle using his links in the media to shape the narrative, but he hadn’t seemed _too_ bothered and Albus really couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Heroics or villainy were of no concern to him. Scorpius was dead. He’d been betrayed. These were the only things he could think of. 

His mother had brought him home and he’d locked himself in his room, the room he’d shared for months with Scorpius. His friend’s trunk was still there, tucked in a corner, filled with schoolbooks and other odds and ends he’d not seen fit to bring with him on holiday. Albus would have tried to block it from his vision, but his room was laden with reminders. Photographs, mementos of Quidditch matches, junk they’d wasted money and time on together. The bedroom was like a shrine to their friendship. And even if it hadn’t been, he didn’t need pictures to know there was a hole in him. 

A will hadn’t occurred until he received the letter by owl on the first morning. Scorpius, it turned out, had solicitors. His presence was requested the next day at their offices. There was no indication of anyone else’s attendance required. 

He’d wondered if leaving the house would help. Walking around the gardens didn’t. Nor wandering Godric’s Hollow. But going into Diagon Alley proved just as pointless, and it included being stared at by the public who knew him now not just as Harry Potter’s son, and had renewed reason to gawp. Every breath he took, every step he took, was a pounding reminder of everything lost and gone and wrong. 

The solicitors’ office was small but well-furnished, and Albus suspected they were expensive and exclusive and probably far, far away from any legal office which Draco Malfoy might have used. He was recognised by the receptionist and immediately guided to a tidy, wood-panelled room where a severe-looking wizard named Abraham Vance. 

There had been little ceremony and even fewer platitudes, which suited Albus fine. Vance sat him down, made an offer of refreshments which was refused, and got down to business. Scorpius had engaged his services by letter during the Hogwarts crisis, he’d explained, after his seventeenth birthday - the moment he had any assets of any value which unequivocally belonged to him. A will had been drafted before the previous Christmas, very short and to the point. 

_I hereby bequeath all of my worldly belongings and wealth to Albus Severus Potter, to do with as he sees fit._   
  
It had been more complicated after Kythos, with Albus presumed dead, too. Now it was simple. Vance didn’t belabour the point, just gave him a key to a Gringotts vault and had him sign some paperwork. Then he’d been free to go. 

Albus shook the man’s hand. Left the office. And went home. Explained what had happened in casual chat with Lily, because Lily was the only one acting halfway normal around him. He knew it was a contrived normalcy. But he indulged the illusion, tucked away the papers, and went back to his room. His room, with all of Scorpius’ things in it, with all of Albus’ old life in it. Photographs of their triumphs laughing down at him, mementos of the good times and the bad - _innocent_ times, all from Hogwarts before everything had gone to hell, when it had just been the two of them against the universe. Everywhere. 

He didn’t destroy them. But he took them down, every picture, every memento, everything in the room he could possibly tie to Scorpius through the slightest thread of memory, and put it away in Scorpius’ old trunk, locked it tight. The room was bare then, and that suited Albus fine, because it made it easier for him to pull his travel bag out from under the bed, throw it open, and start packing. 

It didn’t take long. Then he hefted Scorpius’ trunk and lugged it up to the attic. 

Rummaging around up there, to his absolute lack of surprise, got attention. All he was doing was seeking a quiet corner where he could tuck the trunk away, but soon a head popped up the steps behind him. ‘Al?’ 

‘I’m just putting things away, Dad.’ 

But there was a tense silence from his father. ‘I passed your room on the way up. You’ve packed?’ 

Albus grimaced, shoved the trunk against the wall, and didn’t look over. ‘Scorpius’ things are in here, whatever he didn’t bring on holiday. I don’t know if Rose will want it. It’s here if she does. But it’s out of the way in case everyone just wants to _forget_.’ 

‘Nobody’s going to forget, Al.’ Harry ducked up into the dusty attic. ‘And we’re not asking you to.’ 

‘Good,’ said Albus, turning to him at last. ‘Because I can’t.’ 

Harry winced. ‘This is going to take time -’ 

‘I need a jacket. Something sturdy. I lost most of my stuff in Kythos.’ It was a strange, petulant whim that had him looking away from his father, going to rummage through the other trunks, boxes, tarp-covered piles of belongings his parents had tucked away to be forgotten up here. 

His father watched him, nonplussed. ‘Er, the old wardrobe, your right…’ Albus opened it, welcomed with a rack of old clothes that only by magical charms had resisted becoming moth-eaten beyond use. ‘Anything you want -’ 

A soft leather bomber jacket caught his eye, and Albus pulled it off the rack. ‘I don’t recognise this.’ 

‘It belonged to Sirius.’ Harry paused. ‘You can have that, if you like. But - _packing_?’ 

The jacket was a bit small for him, but then, most things were. Albus’ expression was set as he turned back to his father. ‘I’m leaving.’ 

His father frowned, but didn’t look surprised. ‘You don’t need to get away. We’re here, we understand -’ 

Albus stalked past him, tromped down the stairs. ‘You really don’t.’ 

‘I know what it’s like to lose people, Al. You know I do. And I know it’s difficult, it’s even harder when the Veil - I know it makes for uncertainty -’ 

‘There’s no uncertainty. I understand entirely. Scorpius is dead. The Veil kills. You made that clear to me when you told me the stories about Sirius.’ Wearing the jacket felt all the more right, a tether to those lost, so Albus kept it on when he got to his room, instead of tossing it into the bag. That, he zipped shut and slung over his shoulder, and turned to find his father in the door. ‘I need to be not here, Dad.’ 

‘Running away won’t help.’ Harry folded his arms across his chest. ‘Stay, Al. Stay here with people who love you, who care for you, who can _help_ you.’ 

Finally, something stabbed into him and broke the dull numbness. Of all things, it was his father’s adamantly calm understanding, and Albus’ shoulders squared. ‘I _can_ _’t_ stay! _Everywhere_ I go here, _everything_ I see here, all I can know and think is that my best friend is _dead_ and that there is nothing, _nothing_ I can do to affect _anything_!’ 

‘What will you be able to affect anywhere else -’ 

‘I don’t know! But I’ll be _somewhere else_ , not - not _surrounded_ by this life which is -’ He threw his hands in the air. _‘Everything_ about my life has been constructed for me by other people, by their expectations. Except for Scorpius. And now I’ve lost _him_. I need to be somewhere else, somewhere I can figure out what the _hell_ I am!’ 

Harry stepped forward, jaw tight, and planted his hands on his shoulders. ‘You’re my son. You’re a good guy who stood by his friends and, yes, stood against evil -’ 

‘And got my friend _killed_!’ 

‘No. _No_.’ Harry’s hold tightened. ‘The _Council_ did that.’ 

_The Council did that because Eva Saida told them where to find us. And Eva Saida knew where to find us because I was such a_ good guy _that I trusted her._ He shoved off his father’s hands. ‘You don’t understand. You might think you know what it’s like to lose somebody, but who the _hell_ did you lose?’ Harry flinched and Albus’ heart surged, guilt and exultation at hurting his father, and finally he understood why Scorpius had lashed out at others when he was in pain. 

‘A guy who ran a competition with you?’ he continued, voice by now the bellow he never used, because he knew how his shout could make people flinch and normally he despised that. ‘A godfather you’d known for a couple of years? You didn’t lose Uncle Ron, or Aunt Hermione! Scorpius was my _best friend_! He was like a brother to me! You _cannot_ understand that!’ 

‘I can,’ said a soft voice from the doorway, and Albus cringed into silence as he saw his mother stood there. But her gaze was soft, understanding, and she looked from her son to her husband. ‘Harry. Let him go.’ 

His father was looking like every word had been a punch, and his hands dropped from Albus, limp, stunned. Albus hesitated, but then Ginny was approaching him, and she wrapped her arms around him in a hug which _almost_ found the earth-shattering grief lying behind the anger under the numbness. 

‘I lost a brother,’ she whispered to him. ‘I understand. I understand needing to get away from everything. But please don’t do it because you think there’s nothing for you here.’ She pulled back enough to look him in the eye, hands coming up to cup his face, and he almost faltered again. ‘Maybe we’re not what you need now. But we love you, Albus. However far you go, however long you’re gone, you can walk back through this door _any day_ and we will love you just as much, and give you everything you need.’ 

He closed his eyes, clutched his mother’s wrists, and for a moment let himself sink into her comfort. ‘I failed,’ he croaked. ‘I put stupid ideals I didn’t understand before my friends’ safety. And that’s why he died. And even if it’s not, this is - it’s too raw, it’s too close, it’s too much like an old life that doesn’t exist any more and I don’t fit in it, but I don’t even know what _shape_ I am…’ 

‘You don’t have to run,’ Ginny said gently. ‘But we won’t stop you. And we’re always here if you need us.’ 

Albus carefully tugged her hands down, not wanting to push her away but knowing he’d break if he let her stay so close. He stepped to one side. ‘I’ll write.’ His voice was hoarse. 

‘We would like to be sure you’re all right,’ Ginny agreed. ‘And I think you should see Rose before you go.’ 

_Rose. Shit._ But they weren’t stopping him, and he knew, deep down, that they were right. So he hugged his mother again, and then even his father, Harry looking much less at peace with the whole thing. 

‘You’ll let me know if you need anything,’ he said in a grumbling voice. 

‘Scorpius left me everything.’ Albus’ jaw clenched. ‘Of all the problems I have in the world, money, at least, isn’t one of them.’ 

‘That’s no what I meant,’ said Harry. 

But there was no answer Albus could give. And so, as they weren’t stopping him, he left.

* * 

‘ _It was all very well to say_ _“Drink me,” but the wise little Alice was not going to do that in a hurry. “No, I'll look first,” she said, “and see whether it's marked "poison" or not -_ ’ Hugo squinted at the pages. ‘Okay, I promised I wasn’t going to do this, but that is the _dumbest_ method I ever heard of figuring out if a bottle marked “Drink Me” is poisoned. Like, who the _hell_ labels a bottle that but _also_ puts a warning on it for if it’s poisoned…’ 

They were lying in the sun in the front garden, and Rose let her brother’s voice waft over her as she stared at the peerless blue sky. It was sweet of him, she knew, to offer to read to her. She’d done it for him in Hogwarts and she knew he was repaying the favour, trying to distract her when she didn’t have the energy or focus to keep her own mind anywhere but darkness. 

Two days, and she’d been walking around in a daze. What was she _supposed_ to be feeling? Everything was mechanical. She’d eaten when food was in front of her, slept when the hour was late, got up at dawn because who needed rest? She’d failed to read. Failed to engage in conversation. This was the only measure Hugo had found which kept her occupied, and even if she was struggling to focus on _Alice in Wonderland_ , they’d done fine enough the day before, starting with _For Whom the Bells Toll_ before he’d judiciously decided to steer away from literature with so many ruminations on love and death. 

It had hurt in a way which stuck in her throat, but she swallowed it down because she didn’t know what else to do. At least discomfort was a feeling. Better than blank numbness. She hadn’t even cried yet. It was like the part of her that knew how to cry had been thrown into the Veil with him… 

Hugo stopped talking, not because she wasn’t listening, but because there was a crunch of footsteps at the gate. ‘Al.’ 

Rose sat up. They’d not seen each other since leaving Matt’s father’s warehouse, hadn’t yet talked. He looked about as bad as she felt, his brow cut from an injury she’d not noticed him take in the fights. It had not been properly seen to and was swollen, giving him a perpetual squint. 

‘Hey.’ He didn’t step through the gate, and as she got to her feet she saw the beat-up jacket she didn’t recognise, the travel bag slung over his shoulder. ‘Can I - I need to speak to Rose.’ 

Hugo took one look between them and did an amazing vanishing trick, leaving her to stumble towards him. She pushed her hair over her shoulder - she’d put it in a tight braid when she’d first got back, because fussing over her looks was the last thing she was capable of - and looked him up and down. ‘What’s going on?’ 

‘It was the will-reading today.’ He was almost looking _through_ her, his voice a low, sullen tone she’d never heard from him before. Every bright spark in his eyes, every strength in his posture, every confidence in his voice was gone. It was like someone had hollowed out the life in him and left just a husk walking around. 

Was she any better? 

‘He left me everything. The will was from Hogwarts; I reckon he knew he might die and wanted to make sure his Dad didn’t get everything. But it was before you and him were a thing - and it was just _money_ …’ 

She lifted a hand. ‘You don’t need to explain.’ But her gaze flickered to the bag on his shoulder. ‘You _do_ need to explain _that_.’ 

The corners of his eyes creased. ‘I can’t stay, Rose. I can’t - he’s _gone_. And it’s my fault.’ 

‘I don’t see how -’ 

‘Lisa. Eva.’ And now the hurt was there, a hurt so fierce she had to wonder if even she could understand the depths of his pain - because he had loss compounded by loss compounded by betrayal. ‘You warned me, you _all_ warned me, but I didn’t see. I wanted to believe in her, I wanted to be the _hero_ who could _save_ her so I ignored _all_ of the warning signs. And you all listened to me because I’m _Albus_ the _righteous_ and I was _wrong_. I believed in her against _all_ sense because I wanted to be a _hero_ for her, and she betrayed us. She gave our location up to the Council, and _that_ is why Scorpius is dead.’ 

Rose clutched at the gate. Finally something was creeping through the numb haze, and she’d expected it to be grief or anger. It wasn’t. It was an empty weakness that tugged at her knees, and she had to hang on or she suspected her legs would give way under her. ‘That doesn’t mean you have to go.’ Her voice was hoarse. 

‘I can’t stay,’ he said again. ‘This is my old life. It makes no sense to me. I don’t fit into it, because I’ve changed, and I need to change _more_ because the Albus I was, was a stupid _idiot_ who got his best friend killed, so I need to be somewhere else, be _someone_ else. Someone who’s not screwed up and lost -’ 

‘I’ve lost him, too!’ 

Now came the anger. And the grief, all at once, and the words burst past Rose’s lips with the tide of agony that was almost physical, almost enough to make her double over. ‘I’ve lost him and you are the _only_ person in the world who could _begin_ to understand - we’re in this together, Al, or we should be, except you’re running away!’ 

Albus’ expression tensed, but his voice quavered through the anger. ‘Running from _what_ , Rose? What on _Earth_ is keeping me here?’ 

‘How about me? How about your family?’ 

‘None of you _need_ me.’ Albus took a step back. ‘And I can’t - I can’t be here. I don’t know how I’m supposed to be here. I don’t know what I’m supposed to _do_.’ 

‘You think I do?’ Rose looked away and slammed her eyes shut against the wave of emotion before it took over. ‘He’s gone. I wake up every day and he’s _still_ gone. You think I know how to cope with that? You think I know how to go on -’ 

‘Yes. You’ll go back to school, you’ll study hard, you’ll build a career and a life and you’ll go on -’ 

‘And you _can_ _’t_? I know you’ve been hurt, Al, I know things went wrong, so _very_ wrong…’ Her voice was breaking by now, grief shattering and tumbling across her, and her legs quavered under her again. It took a fierce effort to find the words she needed, and coherence. ‘I’ve lost Scorpius. How am I supposed to cope without _you_ , too?’ 

Albus took a sharp step back from the gate. ‘I don’t know. But you’ve got people around you, Rosie. I just - I can’t be here. Everything’s too hard. I’ve got to get away, I’ve got to get _somewhere_ , anywhere but here, someplace they - the memories - aren’t.’ 

And he grew blurry before her as the tears threatened. ‘It’s not over,’ she croaked. ‘The Council’s still out there. Thane’s still out there. He _sacrificed_ himself to stop them…’ _Stop them from hurting us_ , she was going to say, but Albus cut her off. 

‘No. He was _murdered_ , and it didn’t stop them, they’re still out there. What do I care?’ 

That was like a blow to the chest, and she straightened with the impact. ‘I don’t know. Nothing, I guess.’ He’d given up. On the Council, on her, on himself. There was nothing she could do to stop him, and now she was absolutely, _utterly_ alone. She looked away. ‘Go, then, Al.’ Her voice had gone cold, because the numbness, at least, she could rely on. ‘Just - just run away. I’ll stay here. _Of course_. With our families.’ 

Albus’ expression flickered, but only for a heartbeat, before he turned away. ‘Bye, Rosie.’ Then he was leaving, storming down the long road away from the Old Rectory, pack on his back, a lone figure striding off on this hot summer’s day. 

She managed to keep her feet, clutching at the garden gate, until he’d rounded the corner and was gone. Then came the grief at last, a wave so strong that her legs gave way from under her, and the sobbing racked her chest and her whole body so badly she could barely breathe and certainly couldn’t move. 

‘Rosie…’ 

That was Hugo’s voice, and he was hurrying out the front door towards her. She waved a hand at him, warding him off though she wasn’t sure why, and opened her eyes to get a bleary view of his worried face and the lilacs of the hedgerows - 

And she remembered. 

Ager Sanguinis. The vision with Tim. It had been of this moment, the _future_ , and with a sickening twist of her gut that almost made her retch, Rose realised that a part of her had known, known, _known_ all along. She’d told herself it was a vision of what _could_ have happened if Scorpius had died in January instead of Methuselah. Except she was curled up on the path next to the lilacs of the hedgerow, just like she’d seen in the vision, and the lilacs wouldn’t flower in January. 

The sobbing turned to a scream, then, a desperate, distraught scream that she didn’t care if the whole house heard, if the whole street, the whole _world_ heard, because maybe, _maybe_ , she could have stopped this. If she’d done what she had never, _ever_ been good at, just as the Trial of Wisdom had pointed out, and listened to something she didn’t want to hear. 

There were hands at her shoulders, stronger than Hugo’s, and for a moment she thought they were her father’s - but he was at work, her mother the one who’d stayed at home, and _she_ was standing in the door, summoned by the sounds of her daughter’s grief and frozen at the sight of it. 

‘I’ve got you,’ Matt uttered in a hushed, fraught, _honest_ voice as his arms wrapped around her, and she clutched at him like her grief would physically wash her away if she didn’t hold on for dear life. ‘I’ve always got you, I’m going nowhere, I’m here… I’m here…’ 

The words didn’t matter, but the sentiment, somehow, _somehow_ managed to pierce her thoughts and her grief and make it enough to only paralyse her, not kill her. For a moment she’d thought he’d been summoned by her scream, but she realised that was stupid; he had to have been on his way anyway, had probably heard and hurried, had come at just the right moment for her to curl up in his arms and sob and sob, sob like she’d seen Selena sob, like she would never stop. He was here, and she could break into his hands, because there wasn’t anything left to keep her in one piece now Scorpius was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Hugo is indeed reading from Lewis Carroll_ _’s ‘Alice in Wonderland’ in the quote above. ‘For Whom the Bells Toll’, the other book he read Rose (and I honestly can’t think of a worse choice under the circumstances), was by Ernest Hemingway._


	54. Daybreak

‘You don’t have to do this now. You don’t have to do this _ever_. You could give me the bag and I’ll ritualistically burn all the horrible things for you.’ 

Selena realised this was the wrong thing to say when Rose turned wide, dark, tear-filled eyes on her. ‘I’m not _burning_ it -’ 

‘I’m sorry.’ Tears were how Rose coped. Selena could understand that. Tears and anger and hiding from everything and eventually an international rampage of vengeance were how _she_ had coped. But being sardonic was how Selena now coped with Rose coping, and she had to remember it wasn’t helpful. 

It wasn’t easy. Rose was somewhere raw and agonising, somewhere Selena knew too well, and the part of her which remained just as raw didn’t want to _help_ Rose, it wanted to curl up in the darkness with her. Instead, she sat down on the bed next to her friend and reached for the enchanted rucksack. ‘I shouldn’t joke. I know this is hard. All I’ll tell you is that you can do this a day at a time. There is no schedule on when you _need_ to do _anything_.’ 

‘It’s been a fortnight.’ Rose stared at the bag that had somehow managed to dominate her entire bedroom. ‘This is going to need doing eventually. It’s not feeling like it’s going to get easier. And I know it’s there. It’s like a shadow looming over me.’ 

‘Okay.’ Selena took her hand. ‘Just know that you are allowed to feel whatever you want. If a toothbrush makes you burst into tears, then nobody is judging.’ 

Rose took a deep breath, squeezed her hand, and nodded. Then she reached for the backpack. 

An awful lot of what Selena would charitably call ‘crap’ had accumulated in the bag over the last couple of months. Bit by bit, everyone had tossed this bag or that load of clothes into Rose’s magically enlarged rucksack, and not bothered to retrieve it. Spare socks, big coats, a hair straightener Selena had completely forgotten she’d brought. A lot had been lost in Kythos and some left behind in Venice, but when one had a bottomless bag, everyone found an excuse every once in a while to dump their belongings inside. 

Especially Scorpius, who had been shameless at batting his eyelashes at his girlfriend and slipping in this thing or that he couldn’t be bothered to carry. 

Rose was right. It would all need sorting soon enough, and the knowledge that she had a bag where her dead lover’s belongings lurked, waiting to lunge out and upset her was a prospect Selena could understand wanting to get dealt with as soon as possible. So they coped through socks, through dog-eared Quidditch magazines, and the first thing to make Rose falter wasn’t anything of Scorpius’ at all, but one of Albus’ books. 

‘I can’t believe he left,’ said Selena through gritted teeth. 

‘I can. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve woken up and wondered if maybe I should just run, too.’ 

‘I understand that. I felt like that myself. But I realised that you take your pain with you. And he’s not just hiding away from people who can help him, but he’s hiding away from people he can help.’ 

Rose sighed. ‘It’s not just about Scorpius for him, though, is it? There’s Lisa. Saida. Whoever the hell she was. He blames himself for trusting her.’ 

‘We all trusted her.’ 

‘Because Al told us to trust her, most of all. You didn’t fully believe her.’ 

Selena shrugged. ‘I thought she had secrets and I thought she was lying. I didn’t think she was one of Thane’s people infiltrating us. Especially not by the end. She killed Downing. She fought those spirits. She helped us _escape._ I can’t even begin to understand that.’ 

‘I know.’ Rose’s lips thinned. ‘Which I think is why he can’t cope with it, either. He fell for her, and she betrayed him, but we’re also alive because of her several times over.’ She met her gaze. ‘You and I get the knowledge that the people we’ve lost loved us. Al’s not got that surety.’ 

It was awfully empathetic and philosophical, Selena thought, for someone whose guts had been ripped out. Then Rose pulled out Scorpius’ knitted green Weasley jumper and burst into tears, and everything was within expectations again. 

‘Oh, sweetie.’ Selena scooted across the bed to wrap her arms around her, achingly aware of how their roles had reversed, and wishing she knew what made it better other than bleeding over days, weeks, months. Maybe even years. ‘You’re going to be okay.’ 

‘I’m not,’ Rose sobbed into her shoulder, clutching at her and the thick jumper alike. ‘I was just a stupid, stupid, uptight little idiot before him. H-how do I go on…?’ 

A lump rose in Selena’s throat as she recognised the sentiment. ‘These men didn’t make us. They saw who we are and they loved us for it. And maybe it brought out the best in us, but they’d want us to go on. Be strong. Be happy.’ She knew it was the truth, but even as she spoke she knew it was a bit too soon for this sort of thing. Squaring one’s shoulders and bearing the burdens came later. Right now, in the dark, there was only survival. 

‘I don’t know how to do it.’ Rose grabbed greedy fistfuls of the jumper, buried her face in it. ‘School is in a few months and we’ll go back and everything will be _normal_ but we’ll - but how are we supposed to…’ 

That was the million-galleon question Selena had been asking herself for five months. ‘I don’t know, Rosie. But I guess we’ll face it together.’ 

They were up there another hour before Selena could see the exhaustion on Rose’s face. Grief was tiring, and then grief could keep you awake all night, alone with the wolf howling in the dark. All you could do was sleep when you had the chance, so Selena let her sleep and hoped she didn’t have the terrible dreams. 

Not of death, not reliving the loss. Those weren’t terrible dreams, because they were reality. The worst dreams were the ones where everything was well, where your loved ones lived and smiled and loved you back, because then you woke up and you were alone. 

Selena left her anyway under a thick blanket, clutching the jumper because she didn’t dare take it off her yet. Some day she’d have to let go, but not today. For now, it was survival. So she padded out of Rose’s bedroom, down the stairs of the Old Rectory, and walked into the kitchen to find Matt and Hugo playing chess at the table, Hermione Granger at the kettle. 

‘Tea?’ Rose’s mother asked. 

‘Keep it coming.’ Selena slid into a chair with a sigh. ‘We got about halfway.’ 

‘Is that good?’ Hermione winced. 

‘It is what it is. It’s not good, it’s not bad. It’s just part of getting better and she survived it. It’ll need doing eventually, so all we can do is make sure she doesn’t get _broken_ by it.’ 

Matt moved a knight and looked over. ‘Is she asleep?’ 

‘For now.’ Selena accepted the mug of tea, wrapped her hands around it and took a moment to enjoy the warmth. Then she looked up at Rose’s mother, brow furrowed with the knowledge that this was going to be a long and painful road; at Rose’s brother, his frown loaded with worry and naive hope it would be over soon. ‘This doesn’t stop, you know. There’s no magical cure, there’s no way to just turn the pain off. I don’t think this is a pain which ever goes away.’ 

Hugo frowned at the chessboard, Hermione pursed her lips and Selena silently wished the woman knew less about her grief than she did. ‘There’ll be good days and bad and I’m sometimes not sure which is which,’ Selena continued, and felt a surge of gratitude as Matt reached for her hand. ‘There are three modes: curling up in a ball and hiding or crying, or both. Being outraged at the universe and anything in particular, and wanting to destroy it for being so cruel. And a grim, hyperactive dedication to be _better_ , to keep going. That last one might sound ideal, and don’t _stop_ her if she bounces down one morning and decides she’s going to paint the garden fence, but be prepared for her to possibly trash it afterwards or burst into tears.’ 

‘And how long does this last?’ asked Hugo when he looked up, brow furrowed. 

‘I’ll tell you when it’s stopped for _me_. Just… try to not feel useless. You might be, some days. Some days there’ll be not a thing you can do. Any of us. When it hurts less, when the pain is less blinding, she will remember.’ 

Hugo tensed. ‘We’re not doing it so she’s _grateful_ -’ 

‘No, but it’s no fun standing by someone who doesn’t notice you exist. You’re allowed to feel the strain, too.’ 

Hermione nodded. ‘Thank you. I know you’re here because you’re her friend, but I appreciate you taking the time for us, too.’ 

‘You fought a war.’ Selena shrugged. ‘I don’t think I’m saying anything new. But, we should get out of your hair.’ She gave Matt a pointed look. 

‘Hm? Oh, yeah.’ Matt got to his feet, and gave Hugo a wan smile. ‘Don’t you touch that board. We’ll finish this game.’ 

‘I’ll win,’ said Hugo with the calm, smug confidence of a Weasley-Granger blend. 

Matt chuckled, then glanced to Selena. ‘You mind if I just pop up? Say goodbye if she’s not sleeping.’ 

‘If she’s sleeping,’ Selena warned, ‘you’ll let her bloody rest.’ 

‘I know what I’m doing,’ he said, a little tense, and headed for the stairs. 

Hugo took the chess board, mindful to not tip the pieces, and went to the living room, leaving Selena and Hermione Granger alone in the kitchen. Selena drained her tea to avoid having to break the silence, but it didn’t take long before Hermione cleared her throat and said, ‘How’s your mother?’ 

Selena grimaced. ‘Going berserk about potential threats which might undermine the IMC. I honestly think she’d arrest Matt’s dad if she thought she could get away with it. It’s crazy.’ 

‘I can see her concern. People have to believe the government can and will do something, rather than believing independent individuals will get more success.’ Hermione’s brow furrowed. ‘But we have to stick this out, together.’ 

‘We do. Though do you mind if I say that right now I’d rather worry about my friends, and school, and stuff the normal seventeen year-old should?’ 

‘Not at all.’ She looked away. ‘It’s all you should have to worry about.’ 

‘The world seems to have other ideas.’ Selena heard Matt’s footsteps on the stairs and, with relief, put her teacup down. ‘We’ll get out of your hair, though. Thanks, Ms Granger. See you soon.’ 

It wasn’t everyday she and Matt popped over to check up on Rose. But it was happening _most_ days since Albus had left, and so it was with the comfortable air born of habit that she and Matt let themselves out the back door, wandered into the garden towards where the wards ended so they could disapparate. 

And, as was usual, took a little longer in the late June sunshine to walk together before they went their separate ways. 

‘She wasn’t asleep yet,’ said Matt, frowning at the hedgerows. 

Selena nodded, but her mind wasn’t there, and she gave him a piercing look. ‘Where’d you get that ring?’ 

He looked at his hand. The silver ring on his right forefinger was so thick and chunky she didn’t know how he’d thought he was getting away with it, and the Templar cross engraved on it made him even less subtle. 

_Boys._   
  
‘It’s just a memento,’ he said. 

‘Of the trip which got one of us killed? Good times.’ She met his gaze, undaunted. She’d recognised de Sablé in his father’s rescue team. Her mother had been venomous for days about what Gabriel Doyle was up to outside the reaches of the law and the IMC. She knew bullshit when she smelled it. 

Matt shrugged. ‘So, I know we were going to go to Pembroke tomorrow, but Rose mentioned she wanted some new books to read, so I was thinking I’d take her to Diagon Alley instead.’ 

Selena blinked. ‘You think she’ll be up for it?’ 

‘If she’s up for it, I didn’t want to tell her I had different plans.’ 

It was a fair point, Selena knew, and yet an unsettled feeling began to creep into her gut. ‘I suppose we can go to Pembroke any time.’ 

‘Yeah,’ said Matt. ‘That’s what I thought - I mean, if you want to come with us to the bookstore…’ 

_Was that her idea, Matt? Or yours?_ It was a treacherous thought, but she couldn’t shake it. So she just gave a wan smile instead. ‘That’s not exactly my scene. I might be the one to burst into tears through boredom while you two talk smart things that fly over my head.’ It was her old tactic, the self-effacing dismissal of her own intellect. She knew damned well what she could achieve when she set her mind to it, if she was confident in herself. And, once upon a time, he would have reminded her of it. 

Instead, Matt shrugged. ‘It’s an open invitation. And, yeah, we’ll do Pembroke another day. But for now, Rose needs us.’ 

_I don_ _’t need reminding of that._ Selena gave a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and pulled out her wand. ‘Yes, of course,’ she said. ‘You’re a good friend to her.’ _And I_ , she thought as they swished their wands and disapparated to their separate homes and separate lives, _can read the writing on the wall._

* * 

You could stand on a high point in Berlin, Albus thought, and when you looked down it was like someone had sliced the city in half. There was no more Wall, no more literal barrier cutting one side of the city off from the other, but the echoes of war and strife and oppression remained. One moment prosperity, then you turned a corner and were surrounded by crumbling walls, graffiti and an atmosphere that discouraged walking down an alleyway alone on a dark night. 

It was a city of duality, a city still trying to understand what it meant to be complete. He couldn’t begin to understand the challenges it faced, or how far the recovery was coming, but for the last week or so he had found the place so jarring as to be comforting. 

But he’d had enough of waiting around. It was time to move on and, at last, time to _do_ something. 

So he was headed for the Bundesmagieto get his next Portkey, to keep going east. The quickest way there from the run-down hostel he’d stayed at saw him cutting through a busy Muggle shopping centre, but that suited him fine. Being in a crowd was comforting, and all the more comforting when it was a foreign crowd or a non-magical crowd - a crowd of people who didn’t know him. He could be anonymous, just one more person with his burdens to bear and his daily challenges to face. 

Not the tormented hero that British media seemed determined to paint him as. Albus Potter, who _of course_ had led the Hogwarts Five to thwarting the Council of Thorns’ latest escapade, only to lose his best friend in the process. Scorpius was being hailed as the dead hero, but that meant they needed someone to swarm around to be their living symbol. And now he was absent from the public eye, they could reach whatever conclusions about him they liked. 

So long as he didn’t have to live with it, he didn’t care. He was getting away, far from anyone who could possibly recognise - 

‘Hello, Albus.’ 

And his spine locked as he recognised the voice. _You_ _’re in public_ , he told himself, freezing his hand before he could go for his wand, or possibly turn and lunge for the speaker’s throat. _Muggles. People. It_ _’s deliberate, so don’t be a fool._ He stopped in the crowd, drew a slow, shaking breath, and turned around. The woman behind him had been sat on a bench but stood as he passed, and was lowering the hoodie that masked her face. He squared his shoulders. ‘You.’ 

Eva Saida’s dark gaze flickered across his face, like she was drinking in every detail of him. No doubt to read him, as she’d been so good at doing, then lie to and manipulate him, as she’d been so good at doing. ‘It’s been a while.’ 

‘It’s been a fortnight. Not exactly an age.’ 

‘I was looking for you.’ 

‘I don’t want to be found by _anyone_ right now. Least of all you.’ His jaw clenched. ‘You’ve got a lot of nerve, coming to see me.’ 

‘Which is why I did it here. Neither of us is going to do anything in the middle of a crowded Muggle shopping centre. I didn’t think you’d be happy to see me.’ 

And they _were_ in the middle of a crowded Muggle shopping centre, but that didn’t stop him from storming up to her, his face in hers, anger roiling and raging inside of him like he’d never felt before. ‘I would be ripping you limb from limb if you weren’t -’ 

She didn’t flinch, lifted her face to look him in the eye, and spoke in a low, clear voice. ‘I know.’ 

‘You might have helped us get the Chalice, but that was for _you_ ,’ he snarled, and while he usually hated using his size, all of a sudden it was very gratifying to be a tall, muscular man who could loom at this person who had wounded him so badly and know that he _could_ , if he wished, reach out and hurt her. ‘And you might have broken us out at the end, but don’t think for a _moment_ that means I owe you anything. That doesn’t make up for betraying us, that doesn’t make up for selling us out to the Council -’ 

‘I didn’t.’ 

He wasn’t surprised that she was denying it. Why else would she be here, after all, if not to lie to him, to try to play him some more? But what did draw him up short was the low confidence in her voice, the ardent determination in her eyes. What did surprise him was that he _believed_ her. 

_Of course you believe her. She_ _’s been so good at lying to you all along!_   
  
‘I was there to spy on you, I admit it. But I did _not_ tell the Council you were in Venice, Al -’ 

‘Don’t call me that,’ he snarled, fists clenching. 

Now she _did_ flinch, except this time there was nothing he could find gratifying about it. ‘I’m telling the truth. I didn’t tell them to find us in Venice. _This_ is why I’m here, Albus. Thane let you think it was me, but there’s somebody _else_ who let on that you were in Venice, somebody else who let on that you had the Chalice. No doubt he lied to you to cover _that_ source.’ 

His lip curled. ‘Why should I believe you?’ 

‘What _possible_ reason do I have to lie?’ 

‘And if it’s true.’ His gaze raked across her face, desperate to find any small tell, any small hint of her deception, praying that after all she’d done to him, he could at least _now_ identify the marks of her deception. He could see none, and that did nothing but spin his head more. ‘If it’s true that you didn’t betray us, why are you _telling_ me?’ 

She swallowed hard. ‘The same reason I helped you break out. The same reason I killed Downing and fought those spirits on Cat Island.’ 

‘That’s not an answer.’ 

Her gaze flickered. ‘You don’t want to hear the answer.’ That silenced him for a moment, and in the void stretching between them, the void that blocked out the life and sounds and hustle and bustle all around her, somehow she found the audacity to press on. ‘I was meant to spy on you, I was meant to betray you. And then my own boss tried to kill me. And then the man I’d trusted my entire life made it clear that I was just an _asset_ to him, and it became more and more apparent I was working for _lunatics_ who want to see the world burn and build their own shrine from the ashes.’ 

She looked away, and his gut was churning too wildly, his heart thudding in his chest so hard he thought it might break through his ribcage, and he couldn’t begin to find the words to answer before she continued. ‘You were the first person in my life who didn’t treat me like an asset or an inconvenience. The first person to treat me like a person. To believe me, to believe _in_ me, to think I could be something _else_. It would be a lie for me to say I turned my back on the Council _for_ you. But I turned my back on the Council _because_ of you, because you made me believe I _could_ be anything other than someone’s weapon.’ 

He drew a raking breath, his throat like sandpaper. ‘You’re lying.’ 

‘I’m not.’ But she met his gaze again, and her eyes swam with regret. ‘But this isn’t what I came to tell you, because I know you won’t believe me, can’t believe me. I’m not in the Council any more; they know I betrayed them in Ager Sanguinis, activated and unleashed those golems. I’m going to need to keep on the move if I don’t want to be grabbed by _either_ side in this war, so don’t imagine I came wandering through as secure a city as Berlin on a _whim_. I came here for a reason. I came here to warn you that you have a different spy in your midst.’ 

‘ _Why_ are you warning me?’ 

Eva Saida swallowed. ‘Because in my whole life, you have been the only thing that’s real.’ 

And he believed her. Like a fool, he believed her, even though he _knew_ she was lying, knew she was a creature of lies, and all that filled his thudding heart was a hatred that raged for himself as much as for her. His hand shot out, grabbed her arm, and again she flinched - that hurt, terrified flinch he’d once hated the idea of summoning. 

Right now, hurting her like that felt a little bit like justice. 

‘You lied to me. You used me. You betrayed me. So far as I’m concerned, you are _just_ as responsible for Scorpius’ death as Thane or Raskoph or anyone else in the Council of Thorns.’ His voice was a low, rasping hiss, and even though they were getting the odd look from Muggles passing by, nobody had intervened yet, and he didn’t _care_. ‘Everything you say is a lie, everything that was between us was a lie, and if I ever, _ever_ see you again, I don’t care if we meet in an empty room or the middle of a meeting of the Council itself, I _will_ kill you. _Do_ you understand?’ 

She met his gaze, the fear fading for a calm acceptance that only made him hate her more. ‘I understand.’ 

But she said nothing else, just looked him in the eye and didn’t try to pull away, and finally he couldn’t stand it any more, because being so close to her brought back the memories which had once been so sweet but now made his stomach roil. He let her go with a harsh shove that knocked her into a passer-by, and then there was fuss and glares and muttering from the crowds. He didn’t care; just hefted his pack, turned on his heel, and marched onward. 

Away.

* * 

‘Raskoph is moving against Acosta next,’ said Prometheus Thane, leaning back on the overstuffed leather armchair and watching the face flickering in the green flames of the cosy study’s fireplace. ‘He’ll probably supplant him and then seize Brazil’s resources, perhaps try to spread his influence across Southern America. So that might take the major Council activities out of the worldwide sphere for a while.’ 

‘That’s a problem,’ said the face in the flames. ‘We need to keep this global. We need everyone to remember the danger. If the world is complacent, then the Council will fail.’ 

‘Without Lethe, it’s going to be a lot harder. We didn’t need an army to keep people scared so long as Eridanos was striking settlements. It kept the Council of Thorns in everyone’s mind. But Lethe was going to keep people scared, _and_ give us an army.’ It was perhaps playing into a stereotype that he had a glass of brandy in his hand as he sat in an armchair before a fire, but it was really _good_ brandy, and after hiking across the world, Prometheus Thane knew he deserved the finer things in life. ‘Do you want me to divert Raskoph?’ 

‘No. No, we need him to stay powerful. He’s one of the few with vision, with ambition. He learnt at the knee of Grindelwald, so to speak, and that is exactly the kind of man we need in the Council. Let him build up his influence. Acosta’s use to us is at an end anyway.’ 

‘Then we’re going to need another threat.’ Thane sipped on his brandy. ‘Or people will start to forget.’ 

‘Let me worry about that,’ said the face in the flames. ‘Have no doubt, I will make sure everyone remembers that the Council of Thorns is a threat that could bring the world to its knees. I have something else in mind for you.’ 

He arched an eyebrow. ‘You have my attention.’ 

‘You said that you had a theory on how we could recover from this setback.’ 

Now he almost choked on the brandy. ‘That was a long shot. A long, and dangerous shot.’ 

‘I have never known you, Mister Thane, to shirk from risk. I also know you do not voice _theories_ idly. Can it be done?’ 

He set down the brandy, felt the liquid pooling in his gut, bringing its warmth ebbing across him to try to soothe his pains. It didn’t work. It would take more than a drink to soothe his pains. ‘I cannot promise anything,’ he said at length. ‘It’ll be expensive, and it will take time. Months, _years_ , possibly.’ 

‘If it can be done, it is worth it.’ 

‘And I’ve lost a lot of my people. Downing was useful. Saida - I don’t know where she is, but I’ve lost her.’ His jaw tightened, and he didn’t know if the tension in his gut was from grief or anger. ‘This would take the most brilliant minds, and how are we supposed to do this without Raskoph knowing?’ 

‘I don’t care if Raskoph knows. Raskoph will get what he wants, but even if he learns, you _cannot_ allow him to take over. Do you understand? That is imperative.’ 

‘Of course. But he would be the best way for me to assemble a team.’ 

The face in the flames sighed. ‘I have already taken the liberty of finding you a project leader. Someone who is an absolute expert on the situation at hand, and someone whose interests have always lain with this matter. If you’d open your door, I invited them to join us.’ 

Thane’s brow furrowed, but he reached for his wand and flicked it at the door to his study. He disliked the idea of his associates inviting whoever they liked into his family home, tucked away from prying eyes or law enforcement as it was, and at a great expense. But it wasn’t as if he could voice such discontent, or as if they couldn’t wipe him out with barely a thought if the notion occurred. He was much too interested in being too useful to the cause he believed in to let it occur to them. 

It was just as well he’d put down his brandy, or he’d have dropped it as a short witch, her dark hair streaked grey at the temples, walked in, green-eyed and straight-backed and looking like she wasn’t sure if she was about to be plunged into a pit of snakes. Under the circumstances, Thane couldn’t blame her, and it took him a moment to find his voice. ‘Nathalie Lockett.’ 

She gave him a level look which couldn’t hide the distaste. ‘Prometheus Thane.’ 

‘It’s good you two know each other,’ said the face in the flames. ‘I’ve found Ms Lockett to be a most useful associate this past year, and so I hope you can forge as equally close a bond.’ 

Thane looked Lockett up and down, brow furrowed. Then he gestured for the other chair. ‘You understand what we need?’ 

Lockett walked, stiff-legged, to take a seat opposite him. ‘Better than you do, I dare say.’ 

‘You can do it?’ 

‘I _will_ do it.’ 

Thane reached for his brandy and had a sip. ‘I didn’t take you for an associate of the Council of Thorns.’ 

It wasn’t Lockett who answered, but the face in the flames. ‘I didn’t get as far as I have, Mister Thane, by spilling my secrets needlessly. I do not require your trust. I do not require your approval. I need you to get the job done. However long it takes. However much money it costs. Else the entire purpose of the Council of Thorns will fall to ash, and I havecome too far to see it fail. Do you understand?’ 

‘I will do it,’ said Lockett again, in that same cold, firm voice. 

Thane leaned back in the comfortable armchair, swirled his brandy in his glass, and allowed himself a slow smile. ‘More fool I,’ he mused. ‘I thought it was all over.’

  
_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _And that is that, the end of Part 2 of this trilogy. Part 3 will no doubt make it to the archives soon._
> 
> _I know readers in the past have had problems with Scorpius’ death, and I don’t want to get too far into it because I do believe that a writer’s work should stand on its own two feet. If I haven’t pulled this event off dramatically, then I shouldn’t be defending it in my author’s notes; I shouldn’t_ ** _need_** _to. So, everything I would like to say to those of you who aren't sure you'll read on is summarised neatly in the words of a writer whose work I enjoy a great deal. Many of you will not have heard of Warren Ellis, but I will borrow from his work ‘Transmetropolitan’:_
> 
> _‘Trust the fuckhead.’_
> 
> _Slide out._


End file.
